


Secrets in Shibuya

by eastofbananafish



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Adulthood, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Canon Universe, Coming of Age, Depressed Oikawa Tooru, Everyone Is Gay, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Gay Bar, Gay Panic, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru Angst, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru Fluff, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, POV Iwaizumi Hajime, POV Queer Character, Post-Canon, Post-High School, Queer Character, Sports
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:49:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 29,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28641024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eastofbananafish/pseuds/eastofbananafish
Summary: After a big rift in high school, Hajime Iwaizumi and Tōru Oikawa thought their friendship was permanently broken. For the rest of their teenage years, the childhood best friends no longer spoke to each other, and distance only continued to pull them apart.Five years later, Iwaizumi is working as a struggling bartender in Tokyo. Money is tight, but he makes ends meet. Oikawa is a retired volleyball player, but his presence still covers every billboard and magazine that you can possibly find.In the eyes of the world, Oikawa is Japan's star athlete. Iwaizumi is a nobody...or so it seems.It is just a regular Friday night for Iwaizumi, heading home from his shift. Well, it began as a regular Friday night until he finds Oikawa, drunk and passed out in front of his apartment.It isn't the reunion Iwaizumi expected, but perhaps, this is what he's been waiting for.[sorta-AU / fluff / angst / new adult novel]
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Oikawa Tooru/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 37
Kudos: 109





	1. this was how it all came undone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iwa & Oikawa's Playlist:  
> 1\. ミツメ - あこがれ / mitsume - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=53mOa0B3nN4  
> 2\. ミツメ - 煙突 - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_gQ_SBXPk3s  
> 3\. mitsume - esper - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=chuSB4d50lI  
> 4\. lily / metro-ongen  
> 5\. silhouette / KANA-BOON  
> 6\. can i call you tonight / dayglow  
> 7\. we’re not just friends / parks, squares and alleys  
> 8\. overthinking / acid ghost

_5 years ago, Miyagi Prefecture_

This was how it all came undone.

With Watari and Kindaichi — picture-perfect student athletes turn wine-drunk fools — chasing me out of Oikawa's backyard. I sighed, realizing that I was locked out of my best friend's home. I couldn't get mad, it was never ill-intentioned. They were just buzzed and looking for another shenanigan to pull. The thump, _thump_ of the house, drumming to the 'Japan Top 50' radio station, was too much for me anyway. Being the sober caretaker, always getting the short end of the stick, didn't bother me very much.

The night was always peaceful. This was fine. Truly, this was just fine.

I walked along the asphalt streets, barefoot and gazing at the stars above me. I counted every planet and telephone wire. From the edge of the cul-de-sac, the lights of Oikawa's house appeared as a hazy glow. If you squint close enough, you might be able to make out the silhouettes of our friends dancing in the living room. From far away, the rowdiness looked gentle... almost ethereal.

I looked up, and Oikawa's room was dimly lit. A soft yellow. I wondered what he was up to. Oikawa had an introverted side that not many people could pick apart at first glance. He was probably up in his room taking a break from the party. Maybe reading, napping, listening to music he actually enjoys. Recently, he had been playing Metro-Ongen and Mitsume on repeat: two indie-rock bands we discovered while sharing earbuds on the train.

Maybe I'd join him. I should head back anyway.

I thought about entering through the front door, but I observed the chaos of the living room. Oh lord, I was too sober for this, and they locked me out anyway. Then, I remembered the ladders Oikawa and I built on the sides of our homes. Back when we were children, it allowed us to sneak into each other's rooms without bothering the whole family. Our dads thought it would be a good idea, but the ladders kept us in each other's company from sunrise till' sunset. We were inseparable.

These days, high school and volleyball kept us busy. Our silly, little adventures were pushed aside. Responsibilities, you see.

This could be a fun surprise. I made my way up the house and onto the small balcony. Then, I stepped into the window and pushed aside the sheer, linen curtains. Then:

_Oh Fuck._

_Fuck. Fuck._

_Fuck._

First, I saw Nakamura Ainu's flushed face, rosy cheeks. A girl from our biology class. I didn't know she was here. When did she meet Oikawa? When did this start?

Then, their skin. Oikawa's smooth, alabaster back looming over Nakamura's bare chest. His hand holding her arms against the baby blue mattress.

So much skin. And flesh. And nakedness. My fight-or-flight response did not activate, and I was left frozen-in-place, My stomach churned as I tried piecing together an apology in my head. Oikawa's eyes — brown and always bewitching — burned with an angry embarrassment.

"Iwaizumi." He chose to not call me by his usual _Iwa-chan_. His eyes could not meet mine. "Why are you still here? Please just leave."

"Uh, uh... I'm so sorr-" Usually, I would be the one making snarky remarks, a blunt comment or two... but this was not the time.

I ran across his room and out the door. Stormed down the stairs and through the crowds. Sprinted all the way home, leaving tears as trail markers.


	2. the best of nights, tokyo lights

_5 years ago, Miyagi Prefecture_

Three weeks before the party, we were just childhood friends. There was always a deep care between Oikawa and I, but it never grew into a love, not even a strong like _._ Before that night, we were truly nothing more than _just friends_ , but something changed, and I could never tell you if it ensued in my life as a regret or as an inevitable occurrence. A mix of both, maybe.

For his birthday, our parents let us take the overnight bus to Tokyo. It wasn't anything fancy. We found a room in a cheap ryokan called the Jaybird Inn. For less than 2,000 yen, it was perfect: our own little abode in the middle of Tokyo. Everything felt exhilarating. Perhaps, our first taste of freedom turned the world into a kingdom of grand possibilities.

Oikawa pulled out two cards from his pockets. Fake IDs. They looked real, scannable too.

"Mad Dog got them for me. He said we can't go to Tokyo without sake bombs." Oikawa handed me my card. I must admit, it looked a bit too real. "Apparently Mad Dog knows this guy who deals, and he knows another guy who prints fakes. Why am I even acting surprised?"

"God bless you, Not-So-Shitty-Kawa." I nudged his shoulders as we waited for the Yamanote line, the green train rippling in our direction. In Tokyo, everything was swift and colorful. It was nothing like the lazy stretch of time and space in Miyagi.

After dusk and a big pork cutlet dinner, we wandered Shinjuku Golden Gai's narrow passageways. Hole-in-the-wall bars, record shops, and basement clubs stuffed the tight alleys. 80s rock and 90s punk crammed the spaces even more, and we were swarming in a lively frenzy. Drunken couples, groups of college kids, and pockets of intimidating artists surrounded us, but we didn't feel out of place.

Oikawa chose a bar with red lamps and low chandeliers.

We handed our IDs to the bartender. "Two sake bombs, two plum tequilas, and two bitter oranges, please." He turned to me. "My birthday, my treat."

"No! I'll treat you."

"For real, don't worry about it, Iwa-Chan."

Showa-era sounds played in the back as loud chatter filled the air. No one seemed to care that we looked younger than the regulars who frequent this bar. Yet, I felt a bit jittery just being in the city for the first time without our families.

No parental supervision, and we pulled up in the bars!? My mother would be fuming if she found out. However, the sake bombs helped ease my jitters away.

"ICHI."

"NI!"

"SAN!"

"SAKE BOMB," we both shouted, slamming our fists onto the table and chugging the beer until it fizzed in our stomachs. I noticed that our fingers were still wrapped in white tape. I wondered if anyone in this room cared about volleyball. I looked around: rainbow-haired college kids, old rock junkies, and a sprinkle of European tourists. No, nobody here cared about volleyball... For the first time, it was nice being away from the interviewers and sports fans. It was nice just _being_ with Oikawa.

We drank through many "KANPAI!" cheers and shared endless plates of Takoyaki (the best fried street food in Japan). Oikawa found a windowsill to lean on, and he rested his face against my chest. I held him, brushing my fingers through his tousled hair.

"How you feelin', Tipsykawa?"

The technicolor lanterns of the alleyways shimmered in his brown eyes. "Hmm?"

"Please, for the love of God and Tokyo, don't make me carry you all the way home."

"Don't worry. I don't feel drunk anymore, but I am on the verge of falling asleep."

I laughed. "We're not made for the city. Your body is still on 6:00 AM practice time. I'll catch a taxi for us."

Oikawa fell asleep in my arms as we headed back to the ryokan. From time to time, I would catch the driver staring at us with a menacing glare. I ignored him and stared out at the glowing city lights of Tokyo. I took it all in: the flickering colors, beaming signs, and Oikawa's sleepy murmurs. We finally returned to our weekend home, and I thought I would have to drag him all the way upstairs.

But then: his face lit up after his car-ride nap, beaming with a mix of lingering sake and drowsiness. We tiptoed into our room, pushed our futons together, and slipped beneath the thick blankets. Oikawa inched closer and closer to me, and I inched closer and closer to him until our arms were wrapped around each other's bodies. We both didn't know what we were doing, but it felt as if we both knew the night would lead up to this.

"Are you okay with this?" I whispered.

"This, Iwaizumi... is what I would dream about." He traced his hand down the nape of my neck. "Are you okay with this?"

"Yes." I nodded, and we kissed.

Oikawa slid his fingers into my hair, and I held on to his arms to stay steady as we pressed together like two swords in a Catch-22.

Kissing Oikawa felt good. It felt right, so we did it again and again. All night. In the morning. Throughout the weekend. In the dimness of those bar-filled alleyways. We kissed and kissed, and it felt so natural, so easy while we were still in Tokyo.

Then, we were back in the Miyagi Prefecture. The colorful city lights disappeared, and we were back in the rural slump of our mundane realities. Our truths felt like a giant blotch in our lives... it was rattling... it festered like a dirty secret we weren't even able to share with each other. I wished we could've left it behind in Tokyo, but memories never worked that way.

Then, we were back to kissing girls at parties, and sometimes, our eyes would catch each other. We would always look away. It stung like revenge.

I could never explain why this happened. Perhaps, our reckless immaturity got the best of us.

I just wished it never happened. At least, not yet. Not then.


	3. the morning after

_5 years ago, Miyagi Prefecture_

It was the morning after, and Oikawa told me to come over. As I approached, Nakamura Ainu was just leaving. I gave a polite wave. She looked away. Embarrassment filled all of our faces.

"I couldn't do this, Iwa-chan." We sat in front of his house, legs dangling on the sidewalk. "I just want to be a normal guy again and live my life. You have Emiko to be with. Does she even know what happened between us? This isn't fair to her, to you, or to me."

Emiko and I started dating the week after Oikawa's birthday. It was the worst timing, but she insisted. I agreed because I wanted to get my mind off of Tokyo. It was a selfish move on my end, and I saw the crippling effect it had in his eyes.

"I should've knocked. I'm sorry, I didn't know you two were together, and I just wan-"

"No, it's not just that. It's everything."

I raised an eyebrow, but I knew the answer — deep, down inside, it was obvious.

"What I said to you while we were in Tokyo was the truth, all of it... but that's not what's best for you or me right now, and we both know that." Oikawa stared down at the asphalt. "I think we need some space between each other. I'll see you at practice, and we'll still be around... but I just need time to breathe again... I need to see my life as something that's separate from yours."

I nodded. We sat in silence for a long time. Then, Oikawa's mom called him back inside.

We said our goodbyes, thinking they would be temporary.

I stopped going to practice.

After that, we never really spoke again.

Funny, how the world works sometimes: how the smallest things could shatter _everything_.


	4. kuroo's predictions

_Present Day, Tokyo_

"Let me tell you, Iwaizumi. The wife wants another kid, but that's not going to solve all of our problems. If anything, it'll just add to it. Right!? Being a father is a fulfilling duty, but I didn't ask for more bills," Businessman 3.0 murmured after gulping down his third shot. He'd been coming to our izakaya for the past three weeks; I should know his name by now, but these men blurred together in my mind—a soup of midlife crises. Bar Akane in the Ebisu neighborhood attracted everyone, from college lovebirds to exhausted nine-to-five office employees. People-watching as a bartender was my small, personal perk.

A Thursday night. Worn-down overcoats. Gray Hair. Sunken eyes. A few pot bellies, here and there. It was the usual stir of folks.

They all looked a bit too alike. It was eerie. I pictured myself ending up in a bar, unleashing my problems onto a broke, young university student just trying to mix some gin and tonic.

Nope. God, please never let that be me.

Working as a bartender was what I needed because, for the time being, I was not these men, shit-talking women and drinking their problems away. At least I had not fallen down the pit of crippling, toxic masculinity. I was still finding light in this weird, chaotic world. Sometimes, just this thought alone would get me out of bed.

Businessman 3.0 squinted down at his watch. "Fuck, I have to get back to the wife. I'll take a beer for the road, and a box of tempura shrimp for the kiddos," he added, handing me the cash.

As I prepared the man's order, a familiar voice echoed through the room.

"HEY, HEY, HEYYY," the deep voice rattled, catching everyone's attention. Bokuto and Kuroo entered the building, waving with huge smiles. Bokuto reached over the bar and patted my back with too much force. It was his classic greeting, and somehow, it never got old.

"Popped in for a drink?"

"We were heading down to Shinagawa to run some errands, but Bokuto insisted on stopping by. We were supposed to switch lines, but, out of nowhere, Bokuto shouts your name. Everyone glared at us as he was like _Iwaizumi_... We need to check on Iwaizumi! He probably misses us! We can't pick up our packages until we see Iwaizumi. He _needs_ us, Kuroo. Please, Kuroo, we need to get off this stop! He's probably thinking about us _right now_."

"Okay, I do not talk like that," Bokuto sneered.

"Oh, yes you do, my friend, but it's all good. I was craving a drink anyway."

I smiled. It was nice hearing their banter again.

After quitting volleyball, I met Kuroo at one of our high school science fairs. Even back then, he always noticed my loneliness and worked hard to pull me out of my depressive slumps. Kuroo would drag me to his parties and spontaneous outings, where I grew close to his group of friends: Bokuto, Akaashi, Kenma, Tsukishima, and a bunch of other supportive folks. Having friends again after losing Oikawa saved my teenage years.

The group was now spread across Japan. Actually, we scattered ourselves all over the world. Tsukishima, who Oikawa once saw as a threat, was now playing for a US college team. Akaashi switched careers and picked up pottery in South Korea. Kenma took an offer to travel the world as a professional gamer. For a long-distance couple, him and Kuroo never stopped loving each other. Nonetheless, Tokyo became our home base. The city always brought us back together.

We could go weeks without seeing each other, but these friends always showed up when I needed them most. It was like some telepathic knowledge. Magic, if you asked me.

I prepared three whiskey sours for us. "Drinks are on the house, boys."

"Kanpai!" Kuroo cheered. He raised his eyebrow at me. "Did you see the new Nike campaign? Oikawa is now the Japan collection's official spokesperson. His face is everywhere. Skytree. Midtown. Plaza Omotesando. Tokyo station. There is no escape."

"I'll drink to that," Bokuto chimed. "I tried closing my eyes, but those iconic Oikawa eyes were staring me back down. Fuck, I'm going to have weird dreams about him."

"Hm, maybe I'll catch an Oikawa billboard on the next commute, but I haven't thought about him in a while," I lied, and Kuroo noticed.

"Man, you need to reach out to him! You two were such good friends."

"I would, but he's busy now. All of these deals and campaigns. Modeling for this and that. I wouldn't even fit into his schedule. Besides, that was a long time ago. Oikawa probably doesn't even remember me anymore."

"If I had his fame, I would buy Akaashi and I a penthouse in New York City!" Bokuto chuckled. "Just kidding, I would buy a penthouse for all of us, so Iwaizumi wouldn't be stuck serving vodka shots to these depressed, middle-aged men."

"Hey! Don't say that. I'm also... _depressed_ ," I sang out.

"Damn, me too, but let me dream up a life for us."

"Back to reality, you two," Kuroo smirked. "Someday, Iwaizumi, you will be on the train, and he will be there. You will see him. He will see you. You will realize how much you needed him. He will realize how much he misses you. The universe works in weird ways, but I just have a feeling that he'll be back in your life when you least expect it."

"Are we talking about Tsukishima?" Bokuto deadpanned, chugging the remainder of his drink.

"No, dumbass. Oikawa."

"OH, yes. You are very right. That will definitely happen."

I rolled my eyes and wiped down the bar. "Yeah, yeah, we'll see about that."


	5. voices of the shrubs

Thursdays might be Bar Akane's special day for jaded businessmen and almost-divorced dads, but Fridays were completely different. Once the weekend hit, the bars of Shibuya attracted the kooks and weirdos of Tokyo's finest. 6:00 PM and hungry students gathered for two-for-one sake bombs. The weekend regulars stayed for every niche indie band that came to perform. Tonight, the stage welcomed Shin Rizumu. Small kid. Big glasses. Soft and sweet lyrics. Enchanting voice.

Guests gathered around the stage as Rizumu's songs hypnotized his audience. In the corner, two guys had their arms wrapped around each other's bodies. The gentle fog, neon violet lights, and swarm of people ensconced their affection for one another. They were all too entranced by the music to notice, but even then, how could anyone judge those who craved nothing but joy?

Yamaguchi, the recently-hired bartender, studied our liquor racks with a certain frenzy in his eyes. I liked him. Innocent college first-year. Fresh to the bar scene.

"Whatcha trying to find, new kid?"

"Stressful delivery. Lots of food. Fancy drinks. Have to prepare them there. Uhh," he stuttered. "Apparently this is for an important event. I don't know why they chose the new guy, but here I am. Ohhh god..."

"Let me see the order." I took the invoice from his hand. "70,000 yen!? Who the fuck would-"

_Customer Name: Tōru Oikawa_

_Vesper Martini (6)_

_Elderflower Daiquiri (7)_

_Pisco Sour (8)_

_Sake Bomb Sampler (6)_

_Tempura Board (3)_

No, it couldn't be.

Nine million people live in Tokyo. Plenty of wealthy people shared his name. It could be anyone. I passed the order back to Yamaguchi and stuffed his basket with the correct liquors. For good measure, I wrote down the recipes for each drink and a good luck note to slide in there as well. Poor kid, that Yamaguchi, and if that customer was really 'my'Oikawa... I wished him extra luck.

I watched Yamaguchi hop in the car and wondered where the delivery would take him. Where could Oikawa be? I bet he lived in Minato City with the fancy foreigners and international CEOs. The thought made me despise him. Just a tiny bit.

Yamaguchi returned as I finished my late-night cleaning shift. The only people remaining were the sport enthusiasts who lingered in the back room. Glassy-eyed fans hovered around our vintage television set just to watch game recaps with a touch of 1970s nostalgia.

"Hey! It's past midnight!" I shouted. "We're closing up now. Time to leave, everyone!"

As per usual, they ignored my request. I dreamt of getting in bed.

I entered the room, ready to shoo away the remaining bar rats, but then I saw what these people were all bewitched by. The timing was obnoxiously perfect: a shot of Oikawa winking directly at the camera. It was a special interview episode on J Sports, featuring the one and only setter that all of Japan grew to adore. Of course, the women in the room gushed over every sentence that slipped out of his mouth.

_Reporter: You have officially retired from Volleyball, Oikawa. Was it a hard decision?_

_Oikawa: Definitely. One-Hundred Percent. You see, life is filled with many hard choices, but this one was especially difficult. As much as I love the sport, the pain has been hard to manage, and it's something I have to let go before it takes over me._

_Reporter: You are a strong man, and you'll be loved by many of us here in Japan._

_Oikawa: I truly hope so. The fans have been my greatest support system, and I know I can always count on them! I'm grateful for all of you, and I promise that Japan will see new and exciting things in this next chapter in life... Keep your eye out for this season's Nike campaign!_

_[Oikawa winked at the camera. Again. Everyone went 'ohhhh'. Give me a break.]_

_*Commercial Sequence*_

_Reporter: Next, Oikawa will discuss his childhood upbringing and what led him to success!_

As his fans bubbled with endearment and lust, I furrowed my eyebrows with scrutiny. People acted as if they knew the guy, but they didn't know what it was like to drive Oikawa to his physical therapy appointments, to comfort him whenever the pain got too bad for any athlete to handle. Patellar Tendonitis, also known as Jumper's Knee, had always been Oikawa's biggest obstruction. After being with him at every doctor's appointment, I could tell you everything about it. I knew too much about his pain and the sadness that streamed from his chronic injury.

Watching these interviews and TV specials felt silly.

I turned the TV off. They all booed at me.

"Sorry. Time to go home. We're closing up."

As we all exited the bar, I eavesdropped on the conversations around me.

_"Oikawa is so dreamy. I would like him so much more as a model! He can even be in the next drama we watch!"_

_"Okay, yeah, the dude is hot and what not, but he's an iconic player, and-"_

_"I wonder what Oikawa will do next! Maybe, he'll leave and become a-"_

_"Oh! Look! The Nike billboard! He is so handsome!"_

More squealing from heart-struck teenage girls.

It seemed like all of Japan was talking about Oikawa Tōru. For the past few days, it was Oikawa this, Oikawa that, Oikawa, Oikawa. Endless, endless Oikawa.

The Oikawa chatter continued on-and-on until I reached my apartment building. For the first time, I noticed how scrappy and rundown it appeared next to the 'new & improved', gentrified towers — made for the business expats and newcomers with daddy's money. Shibuya was constantly changing, but my lowly apartment building exuded old city modesty. I cherished every part of it.

I loved the shabbiness. It made my home real and alive, nothing like the cold establishments of these real estate tycoons. I hated the rich. Perhaps, that was why I despised every billboard and magazine that featured Oikawa's face. The way they painted his image as a profit-making tool. Everything about it disgusted me.

When I found myself staring at an 'Oikawa advertisement', the more I forgot who he really was to me. I'd already forgotten so much of him. Who were we at seventeen?

I dug into my backpack, rummaging around for my keys. The only downside to an old apartment was having to keep those rusty keys. My biggest downfall? Misplacing things... and insulting people by accident, but hey, everything in life is a work in progress, right?

The fancy apartments across the street installed fancy biometric door locks. I watched the well-dressed men press their thumbs against the keypads. It was like I could hear the _Beep, Boop. Welcome, wealthy gentrifier. Welcome home._

Where the fuck are my keys!?

Then, I heard someone. A groan: "Haah... Uugh.. Aaah..."

Now, a crazy man hiding in the bush!? I searched harder for those keys. Still nothing.

"AaarGGUhhhh." The voice grew louder. Then, it stopped.

I felt bad for the poor man. Maybe, this was the time to exercise my good conscience and strip away some past guilts. I should check on him, make sure he wasn't dead.

Time to be a good person, Iwaizumi. Time to use your male privilege for something.

I slowly tugged the man out of the shrub. By his legs. It was a disaster from the start. The rest of his body was stuck in the twigs and branches. Yep, there was also vomit. _Disgusting_.

I almost got him out, but the man was face-down and clenching onto the crown of the plant. _Stupid, Stupid. He is so stupid. I am so stupid for doing this._

As I yanked him out, he released the branches, and we both tumbled onto the lawn. The man was beyond drunk, unconscious and passed out. The man was... no... couldn't be.

Oikawa?

He smelled like ejected rum, so I covered my nose. He didn't have the picture-perfect, plastic smile that etched my mind with every commercial and ad, but I was 85% sure that this was Oikawa, alright. Just... a disaster version of Japan's poster boy.

 _Now what, Iwaizumi?_ The inner-demon on my right shoulder whispered into my ear.

 _What did you get yourself into, dumb child?_ The angel on the left replied.

What _did_ I get myself into?


	6. sunbeams and bath water

Dragging him up to my apartment was almost impossible. Of course it would be. It was Oikawa. He might be the hardest worker on this planet, this country's fan favorite sportstar, but he was still a hot mess. I managed to find a shopping cart and hoisted his lanky, intoxicated body into the small basket. The grandmother who lived on the first floor was trekking back from a late-night corner store. She clutched a gallon of milk and a basket of tomatoes in her arms.

"Konbanwa." She beamed a toothless smile.

I grinned back, managing a wave as I lifted Oikawa's back with my other arm. Was the old woman oblivious to this strange antic before her eyes, or did she just not care? Most likely, it was the latter. Either way, she moved happily along, and the rest of the apartment (only saori-weaving grandmothers seemed to occupy my apartment building) was fast asleep.

Once we managed to enter my room, I plopped Oikawa into the bathtub, took off his vomit-stained shirt, tossed it in the washing machine. He would probably wake up confused... maybe even perturbed. My alarm clock might just be his voice — that incoherent, hungover delirium. To prevent morning confusion, I left a note by the sink:

_Hi there. You were passed out in front of this apartment building. Don't worry, you're not hurt. Feel free to take a shower. I washed your shirt. There was puke on it._

I wondered if I should leave before he got up. Many thoughts raced through my mind: Do I really want to see him tomorrow morning? Is this some sort of twisted fate?

Screw destiny! Screw our lack of free will!

It occurred to me that Oikawa always felt present in my life because he was always around. His face was on every street corner. Those infamous eyes lit up the big LED screens, and his smile covered every printer paper ad on Shibuya's cafe walls. He never really left the peripheries of my world; it was like he was always tiptoeing around the fringes. However, Oikawa had not seen _me_ since we both left Miyagi. When we both left our hometown, I floated into his dark void.

There was no way to ever trace me. No social media accounts. No articles. No blog posts. None of that... Hm, perhaps, there was no use worrying about this. I shut off the lights and pushed my anxieties away.

This was a problem for tomorrow.

_____

I woke up to the heavy steam of bath water. Really? I said he could take a shower, but the fool had the audacity to take a full bath. The landlord was already pestering me about the water bill. I should've known; he was always a high maintenance guy.

Oikawa's rambles echoed through my small apartment.

"Where the fuck am I? Oh god, what is this place? How did I fall asleep in this tiny tub? I hope they didn't steal my Prada shirt. Fuck, what if they stole my shirt? That was a gift from Miuccia Prada. They wouldn't even know."

I wanted to scream, 'I can hear you, fucker!', but I bit my lip. I brewed some French roast coffee and blasted my September playlist to drown out his annoying murmurs. Once the sun peeked over the tall Tokyo towers, I opened the curtains. The autumn sun casted lightstreams onto my wooden floors. I stuck my head in the kitchen sink and splashed my face with water, feeling the disoriented thoughts swirl through my body. What a hell of a night. What a cursed morning.

"Hello there?" his voice echoed from the bathroom. He opened the door. "I just wanted to thank you for-"

Oikawa stepped outside, towel around his waist. He had on his sugarcoated, 'Mr. Perfect" smile. It was like he'd spent years in charm school, learning how to enchant people.

We locked eyes. A moment of painful silence followed.

"Iwa-Chan!?" His sugary smile transformed into something completely different. He stopped himself. "Sorry. I meant Iwaizumi. Wait, what is happening right now?"

"Where's my thanks?" I scoffed, half-jokingly. "You were the one who winded up wasted in front of my apartment."

For a moment, a nostalgic sadness glinted in his big, brown eyes. It ended when his melancholy smile turned into a sly smirk, and he began changing into his clothes in the middle of my cramped dining room.

I covered my eyes. "Goddammit, Trashykawa. Go change in the bathroom. We're not sixteen-year-olds anymore, and my kitchen space is not a locker room." Just like him, I caught myself. "Sorry. Meant to say Oikawa."

He went in and out of the bathroom, fixing his hair and grooming his eyebrows. A few snarky comments — "Do you own _any_ skincare!?", "Where the fuck is the blowdryer?" — bounced around my apartment. If the old grandmas in this building could hear him, they would roll their eyes at Oikwaw's absurdity.

Eventually, he buttoned his shirt in front of my bedroom mirror. His hair dried in the light's warmth. Sunbeams casted soft, warm colors onto his ruffled locks. After repairing the mess that was his rum-filled body, Oikawa looked much more like "himself"... or at least, he looked like the man who glimmered in fashion campaigns and Olympic photoshoots. I looked away before he could notice me staring at him.

I never offered, but he poured himself a cup of coffee and joined me at the table. We gazed out my open windows, looking out at the Tokyo skyline, hoping the other person wouldn't point out the awkward pauses between us.

"I didn't know you moved to the city." He broke the silence. His face lit up with a clumsy yet hopeful glee "Well, now that I know you're here, we need to start seeing each other more!" It was like he completely forgot about our big falling out. Maybe, he chose to ignore it? I was never quite sure.

"Aren't you busy with everything going on in your glitzy, little life?"

"Didn't you hear the news? I quit volleyball recently. The injury seems to be permanent, so it was the best thing to do."

"Right." I looked away and thought about the weekends we spent at his medical appointments. How we would always get grocery store ice cream afterwards. It was the silver lining we created to help him cope with the chronic pain.

"However! The bright side is," he smirked, "I literally live right there, and I have so much more time on my hands" He pressed his finger on the glass, pointing straight at the fancy tower across the street. It was the _Beep, Boop_ tower for the wealthy elites of Shibuya.

I detested that elitist place. My blood in my veins ran boiling hot.

"Of course you would live there! The rich are so delusional."

"What do you mean!? It's a beautiful place to live, and if you weren't so bitter right now, I would want you to come over, so I can show you around."

"Why? So you can flaunt your wealth?"

"Shut up, Iwa-Ch-" He stopped himself again. "Okay, I have to head out soon. Ainu has a flight to catch in a few hours, but my schedule looks pretty free tonight. What do you say we meet down in my apartment lobby? Tonight. 9 PM?"

"Nakamura Ainu? You two are still together!? After all these years?"

Oikawa scratched his head. "Yes, we are," he answered. His voice sounded monotone, and he was taken aback with the mention of her full name. We both remembered.

"Well, that's wonderful. I'm happy you two have been able to stay together for so long." Talking about Nakamura Ainu felt like experiencing two minutes of hell. His tone became _so formal, so tense_. The discomfort slithered around the room like a worn-out snake. Oikawa stared at me as I shifted my gaze away from him.

We were both trying to piece together the illogical nature of this current situation, but at the same time, something within us got ahold of our old selves... Somehow, we instantly reverted back to our younger personas... and it was nice. There was no time to question the absurdity of this encounter. In the tightness of my cheap apartment, we just accepted what the universe had given to us and went with it — full-force with no query.

"Anyway..." he added, "sounds like a plan. 9 PM. I'll see you tonight."

"Wait, hold on, but..."

"But what?"

I had no response. He smiled, knowing he got his way. Classic.

Oikawa wrote his number on a piece of notebook paper. Then, he blasted out the door, yelling "Be there or be square!". The note I'd written from last night hung out of his trousers' back pocket.

When he left, the room felt empty. I almost wanted him back just to have his annoying rambles play as background noise. I felt sixteen again, and that made me feel a bit more alive than ever before.

I pulled out my phone to type in the number he wrote down. However, the digits were still the same ones from high school. His contact name appeared as how it was when we first got cellphones: Shittykawa Tōru-Tōru-Tōru (ㆆ_ㆆ).

Above his name was an old photo: Oikawa and I resting on the Aoba Johsai field. I remembered Yahaba snapping the photograph after a summer practice match. It was hot and humid, but we wanted to sleep beneath the blue sky.

Across the street, Oikawa's apartment tower glistened like icy silver beneath Tokyo's pristine clouds. It was a very different world from my small building, where the laundry of old women hung from our balconies with string and rainbow clothespins, where I crouched on my floor each night to eat cheap ramen, where Oikawa would never had entered if it weren't for his insobriety.

He was there. All of these years, and he was right there. I placed my hand over his lingering fingerprint, feeling the warmth of the glass. How did this all happen? I caught myself feeling sentimental and pushed those feelings aside.

That fool. After all this time, he was still an obnoxious asshole.


	7. his secret library

8:30 PM, and my phone wouldn't stop buzzing. A stream of messages flooded my screen with blue text bubbles:

**IWA. IWA. I'm waiting.**

**Hi.**

**Hi.**

**Hi.Hi.Hi. When are you coming?**

**I'm in the lobby, and I'M READY FOR YOU TO BE HERE!!!**

**BORED and LONELY. PLS COME. :'-)**

**I hope you still have your old number. If not, I sincerely apologize to whoever is receiving these messages. Have a nice day.**

**BUT, if it is you, COME. NOW. PLS.**

I rolled my eyes and began typing.

**BE PATIENT, STUPID CHILD. Hahaha. Jk. I'll be there in a few minutes. God, it's only 8:35. Let me finish getting ready! Bye now!**

From my window, the lobby interior glowed through the tower's pristine glass panels. It was a space designed for robots, metallic and icy, like something out of a sci-fi show. On the corner of the curved, white couch, Oikawa was slouched over and staring at his watch, phone in his other hand.

**┌(** **ಠ** **_** **ಠ** **)┘see you soon, Iwa. xx.**

I threw on my "faux-fancy" clothes. Security looked scary. It was the type of intimidating that would throw me out of a building. My dress shirt and oxford shoes made me feel a bit more confident. Oikawa had a way of always looking put-together, and here I was, trying a bit too hard. This was stupid, really stupid. Oikawa and I lived in different worlds, we both knew that, but I was still trying my best to fit into his. At least for the night.

I rang the guest doorbell.

On the other side of the glass, Oikawa seized the receptionist's microphone. She looked up in disgust, like she was used to his childish insanity. Her glare was screaming, _I'm fed up with this grown ass child; fuck this man!_ I couldn't blame her.

"Iwaizumi, how may I help you?" Oikawa leaned against the desk. The receptionist stared him down, poker-faced to the max. "Oh, you want to be let in? Is that so? What's the magic word?"

I pressed the speaker button. "Fuck you, let me in." The security guards shot me a dirty look, and middle-aged women turned to me with their botox frowns. "I mean, please let me in. Thanks."

"The magic word was actually ' _Oikawa is amazing and wonderful, and I'm so glad to be back in his life, and he is so glad that I'm spending time with him_!', but that was close enough."

The receptionist pushed Oikawa away, with just the perfect amount of aggression (a lot), and I caught him mouthing a dramatic "Ouch! That hurt!" from far away. The glass doors slid open, and there he was: jumping around the lobby with his mint-green, satin pajama set. Suddenly, I felt stupid for putting endless effort into my clothing. Just coming here. Just being associated with Oikawa was pure ridiculousness.

"You look nice," he remarked. It was sincere.

"I feel like a museum statue. I should've pulled up in my pajamas."

"From now on, you're only ever allowed over in your pajamas. Sorry, I didn't make the rules."

The elevators shot up to the highest apartments in a matter of seconds. In my building, it took minutes just to reach the fourth floor.

Oikawa's apartment wasn't an apartment. It was a flat, a penthouse. As we roamed the polished, picture-perfect spaces, Oikawa slung his arms and hands in gaudy, ornate motions. He was an awkward tour guide, trying to encapsulate his new life... one that was so utopian that it was slowly inching closer toward a dystopia.

He led me through the white marble kitchen, wine cellar, and champagne lounge. We took a quick peek into the pool room and theater. He called the karaoke bar his "man cave", but I couldn't imagine Oikawa in anything associated with that label. No beer cans or dirty husbands who holler like pigs, nothing like that at least.

The more we spent time floating through what appeared to be untouched rooms, the more his face turned rigid and cold. He was giving a tour that was burning him out, a performance that has been presented for too many nameless guests. A monologue he had to memorize and recite. 

"Finally," he said, this time with lifted shoulders and an excited look on his face, "what we are about to enter is my library room, but not much work or studying really happens in there. Though, I do feel safe whenever I'm in this room."

He opened the engraved, cherry oak door for me. My feet stepped off of the cold, granite floor and onto a fuzzy rug. He tumbled into the giant beanbag, sinking into it like a child in a ball pit. Then, a big German Shepherd perked up from the armchair and raced toward Oikawa.

"Oh, hey girl! I'm back! I'm back! Sit... sit..." Oikawa turned to me. "This is Eevee, and before you ask, yes, I named her after the pokemon."

This room, with the colors and light-hearted ambiance, was different from the rest of the house. It was the Oikawa I remembered. There was color. So much of it.

His eyebrows shot up. "You know, now that I think about it, you're the first person I've ever brought into this room. Even Ainu doesn't spend much time here. She despises this beanbag I got from some random college kid's garage sale."

"Yeah?"

"Ainu thinks this space is tacky, so guests aren't allowed, but whaddya think? Honest opinions only."

Hayao Miyazaki, Yasujirō Ozu, and Akira Kurosawa movie posters covered the walls and ceilings. Old, cut-out photographs of his grandmother were pasted onto his desk and bookshelves. Oikawa kept stacks of his favorite novels around the floor: copies of Hemingways, Murakamis, and Nerudas. A volleyball covered in famous signatures. Thrift-store beanbags, rugs, pillows, and lava lamps brought a tackiness I had never seen before. On the door, he had hung a million polaroids of Eevee. Especially when compared to the mechanical perfection of his penthouse, this room was chaotically cursed, but Oikawa looked happy in it... It could've been the only place he truly belonged in.

"Can't lie. This is truly an interior designer's worst nightmare," I smirked, "but I like it."

Oikawa smiled. Then, he reached into the chest beside him — one that belonged in an 1980s pirate-themed amusement park — and threw a Jurassic Park t-shirt and some sweatpants into my lap. "Please change into this. I know you dressed up, but you look like you're going to suffocate in those pants. Your poor butt cheeks. Let them breathe."

I walked to the corner and threw off my silk shirt and tight trousers.

"Oh... MY GOD!" Oikawa screamed, then imitating me, "Go change in the bathroom. We're not sixteen-year-olds anymore, and my private library nook is not a locker room. How dare you disrupt my study! I am appalled... Just kidding. I'm not a prude. You can change wherever."

I bundled up my clothes and threw it at his face. "Oh, shut up. Like you ever studied anyway."

"Hey, watch who you're talking to! I was in Aoba Johsai's math club for all four years of high school!"

I sat on the rug, across from Oikawa. He turned on the speakers. Surround sound. Of course. The song that played next was one by Mitsume, the band we discovered together back in high school.

"Hey," I laughed. "You still listen to them?"

"How could I not? Reminds me of the good ol' days, as they say in those American movies."

"It's a pick-me-up song, indeed. Brings me back to all of those morning commutes. Shared earphones before wireless headphones became a thing. Timeless."

"I got two tickets a few months ago, but no one wanted to go with me." For a moment, Oikawa looked genuinely sad. Did he, even if it was for a momentary second, think about us when he found out that Mitsume was playing in town? How was he going to get there amidst all of the drowning commitments in his life? Who did he invite? Then: "BUT NOW, I HAVE _YOU_ TO DRAG ALONG WITH ME!"

I looked away, not wanting him to see me smile. "Yeah, maybe. We'll see."

"Fuck you, Iwaizumi! You will go with me, and I know you'll enjoy the hell out of it!"

"Hm, I suppose."

_____

Oikawa and I stayed up all night, chatting until our eyes grew too weary to open. We never revealed the details of our lives, but we talked a lot about movies, video games, and how our mothers were doing. We talked about record shops, the new ramen place down the street, and how we never ran into each other despite going there nearly Tuesday. We talked about Shibuya bars, but I didn't tell him about my job. We talked about recent volleyball news, but not once did we discuss his departure from the sport.

& we fell asleep without noticing the time. The dim fairy lights and lava lamps blurred out of my vision. I simply remembered Oikawa, curled in his beanbag. I was sprawled on his floor. Eevee rested her snout on my stomach, letting out her doggy snores into my ear.

Yeah, this was a nice night. I wondered if Oikawa thought so too.


	8. polaroids from the past

"I _knew_ it. Not to be that person, but I gotta say it." He paused for a second, before unleashing, "I TOLD YOU SO! I told you this would happen," Kuroo rejoiced with that smug look on his face. It was his classic smirk, lips curved into a mischievous revelation.

"What exactly did you predict?" Bokuto looked genuinely confused.

"Man, you really do have the attention span of a goldfish," Kuroo spat back, lightheartedly, "but you are great in everything else you do."

"Thank... you...?"

The more I replayed my memories of the past few days, the more everything appeared like a made-up dream. It could be an illusion I would wake up from in 3... 2... 1, but nope, I was still awake. Perhaps, this was how all coincidental flukes work in this strange universe.

"So, what's next?" Kuroo added.

"Oh I don't know," I groaned. "What _is_ next? How did everything even happen so quickly? Well, I guess all I can do is wait."

"Wait!? Wait for what exactly?"

"For him to initiate another time to see each other. He is the busy one, after all."

"You're so fucking stubborn, Iwaizumi. He already invited you over to his place. Let me drill something into that smart brain of yours: The ball's in _your_ court. I know it sounds stupid, but that's just how these things work."

"Hm," I shrugged my shoulders, "we'll see. I don't even know if he wants to hang out again. Ainu's coming back soon, and he has a million things on his plate. I bet he'll forget about our encounter once life gets busy. I don't know. It's just a lot to think about right now."

"Fuck your stubbornness! I give up. You're going to die alone, and I'll be saying _I. Told. You. So._ " Kuroo's eyes spoke a different truth, and it was one that carried a sly touch of hope. Then, he smacked Bokuto's hand away from the grocery bag. "Hey! Stop eating my Pocky sticks, you thief!"

Kuroo flashed his classic stink eye but instantly caved in to Bokuto's puppy dog face, handing over a fistful of chocolate chips and mochi candy. "Fine. Fine. Here you go."

In three seconds, every piece was demolished, and Bokuto's mouth was covered in blue sugar.

_____

Every month, Mom would deliver a box of fresh vegetables. It was always packed to the brim with local produce from the Miyagi region, and it was always enough to feed a whole family for weeks. As a child, my mother expressed her love in strange ways. She never said "I love you" very much, and one-on-one time came in rare quantities. By my late teenage years, I was always crashing on my friends' couches and never coming home much. I guess I never had a solid grasp on home, and now that I had fully moved away, Mom and I no longer spoke to each other very much. Yet, she still managed to do things like this. Sometimes, I felt bad for the time and energy she spent gathering, packing, and shipping these heavy boxes off to me.

It was as if these vegetables encapsulated everything she wanted to say but couldn't articulate; "I miss you", "I love you", "You are my son" were said to me in the form of packed carrots, sweet greens, and radishes. Sometimes, I found myself missing her too. I wondered if she missed me just as much or if she had any regrets. After all, there was a time before she became a mother, young and adventurous and dancing through life. I changed all of that.

Opening the heavy package, I could see that Mom was under the impression that I was still living with Emiko, my highschool girlfriend. The truth was, after moving out to Tokyo, Emiko and I only lasted two months together. I should tell Mom soon. Almost a year and a half had passed since we'd broken up, but I just hadn't found the time.

Today, the box was filled with sweet tomatoes, mushroom, lettuce, and collard greens.

The vegetables came with a note. It had more words than she'd written to me before:

_Iwaizumi, my son._

_Today, I found photographs of you and your friends. They made me smile._

_How are you and Emiko? I hope she is doing well. Please eat these healthy foods. They will nourish your body. Don't go to bed too late. Call us when you have some time._

_Love,_

_Mama_

Inside the envelope, she included a photo of me and Emiko during a school dance, the Aoba Johsai team after our first-year match, and me and Oikawa as elementary school kids. I took the polaroid of me and Oikawa; it was of us on my rooftop. I remembered that day. We were nine. It was when our fathers built ladders for the two of us. Now looking back on it, they constructed many things for our friendship. Treehouses. Wooden instruments. Backyard forts. I should thank my father again.

I kept the photograph of us as kids and slipped it inside my wallet. It felt nice to have on me.

It reminded me of sweet innocence. The photo was a proof of the past, declaring, 'We are no longer who we once were, but we existed, we were there, and we had the time of our lives."

I wished there was a way to say hello to our younger selves. I would tell nine-year-old Iwaizumi and Oikawa about Tokyo's beauty at night, about Eevee, and how Oikawa grew into an even crazier, more chaotic adult. That would certainly make young Iwaizumi and Oikawa laugh.

_____

A week or two had passed since I last saw Oikawa. For a moment, I thought it was over. Then, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

 **[Shittykawa:]** Hi. Hi. Hi. Hi. Hi. Hi. Hi

 **[Me:]** Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

 **[Shittykawa:]** You haven't texted or reached out. Why?

There was no right way to say 'I was waiting for YOU to text ME'. Kuroo was right. The ball was in my court, but I was too scared to do anything about it. It felt like playing a stupid game. Now, Oikawa's bluntness was calling me out. He was always so unapologetic about expressing his inner-dialogue. If only I could be more like him.

 **[Me:]** Ah, sorry. Got caught up with life. How are you?

 **[Shittykawa:]** I told Ainu all about running into you! She's happy to hear that you're doing well in Tokyo. AND she wants to invite you over for her birthday dinner that we're having this Thursday. Come? Please come?

I remembered Ainu. High school genius. Shy girl. Always sweet, but made infamous by becoming Oikawa Tōru's girlfriend. We never talked much, but I never forgot the mortified look on our faces after that horrible night. I didn't think she would want to see me again. Maybe, this was Oikawa's invitation... but, then again, he wouldn't invite me to her event if Ainu hadn't agreed.

I wondered what she was like now. I painted an imaginary image of her in my head.

 **[Me:]** Will all of your rich friends be there too?

 **[Shittykawa:]** Yeah, but we can ignore them if you want. Most of them are Ainu's friends... I'm just the weird boyfriend who hangs by the dog for the entire party.

 **[Me:]** Ah. Yeah. I can see that.

 **[Shittykawa:]** WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY?

 **[Me:]** Hey, it was your words. Not mine.

 **[Shittykawa:]** So... come? This Thursday @ 7 PM. Be there or be square.

 **[Me:]** Ohmygod, why do you say that phrase so much? Will you force me out of my house if I say no?

 **[Shittykawa:]** Yes. and I'll "accidentally" wake up those old ladies you live with.

 **[Me:]** Ah. Fine. Fine. For the old ladies and the old ladies only...

 **[Shittykawa:]** <3 I'm excited <3 (⁎˃ᆺ˂)

I turned my phone off. This back-and-forth wasn't going to be a one-time encounter.


	9. champagne problems

Thursday came, and I was back in the oh-so-fancy allure of Oikawa's world. Not to be dramatic, but adult birthday parties might be what we'll endure in the depths of hell. Upon entering, I immediately hated these people. They stood with their chins up and paraded the room wearing their fancy cocktail dresses and fitted suits. I especially hated how they all settled in glassy-eyed pods while exhausted servers circled them with trays of champagne and chocolate cake. I was stuck in-between the two worlds: one that belonged to the rich, and the silenced one that belonged to the poor. I hated it all. Why was I even here, shifting through crowds of opulent strangers?

_Have to find Oikawa. Have to find Oikawa._

No matter how many times I called him on my phone, I could't find Oikawa in his own house. I floated through endless rooms, searching for him, like some moth lost in the darkness. I did not belong... God, I really did not belong.

Then, I heard a familiar voice.

"Iwaizumi?" a honey-sweet voice called out.

I turned around, locking eyes with a stunning face. She stood across from me in a scarlet dress, pushing her side-swept bangs behind her ear. Her smile, like Oikawa's, was one that could be spotted on billboards and magazine covers. Nakamura Ainu. It was as if time had not passed; our cheeks turned red upon recognizing each other.

"Miss. Nakamura," I called out, stepping toward her, "you look lovely tonight. I'm honored to be invited to your birthday celebration. Thank you for having me here."

"Please, just call me Ainu." She placed her delicate hands on my shoulder. "Well, look at you! I'm happy that you're here. Oikawa was so excited about your reunion, and truly, it makes me happy to see you two reconnect. I guess you can say that we've both grown up since we last saw each other."

"Ah, yeah. Time is weird. I'm glad that high school is over with."

"Oh, me too. I just got a flashback of those years of getting bullied and feeling like a nobody. Tokyo is certainly a different world. Dreams really do come true here."

"I don't think I'm there yet," I replied with an embarrassed earnestness, "but I agree. There's something about this place. Dreams feel less out-of-reach? Ah, adulthood, amiright?"

Before Ainu could respond, the _clink clink_ of a wine glass silenced the entire room. On the kitchen table, Oikawa stood, tall and proud. "HELLO, EVERYONE! Woo-hoo! Up here! I'd like to make a toast for a spectacular human being!" he exclaimed to the entire room. Ainu covered her rosy face, and the crowd broke out into a cheer. I stepped away and hid within the crowds of unnamed folks.

"Oh my. Oh my," she whispered to herself.

"Ainu, my beautiful partner, inspires me each and every day. Today, we've come together to celebrate her life and the extraordinary things about this woman," Oikawa laid his piercing, brown eyes only on Ainu's. As he spoke, the room melted into a buttery pool of infatuation. 

"I met Ainu in high school when we were young and clueless teenagers, and since then, she has been my rock and source of light. For so many years, we've supported, uplifted, and loved each other through the ups and downs of life. She taught me more about passion, trust, and friendship than any other woman on this planet. She is more than a lover. She is an inspiration to us all, the hardest worker on this planet, and a symbol of selflessness."

The entire room gushed, and Oikawa continued, "Many people don't know this, but while I'm on this table, I just have to share a bit more about her. You see, growing up, Ainu worked two jobs, supported her entire family, and still managed to chase after her goals. From painting murals for the world's biggest cities to opening her own art gallery, she never ceases to amaze me. Ainu, you are the most inspiring person I have ever met. Thank you for your love and kindness. I don't know what I would do without you. That's all from me, folks! Happy Birthday, Ainu!"

Everyone cheered, clapping and applauding with a ferocious zeal. 

I too celebrated with those around me, but for some reason, an inexplicable emotion pierced my insides. My chest was met with an invisible blow. It was a feeling I had not experienced in a long time. I couldn't pinpoint why a beautiful speech would leave me in such a puddle of melancholy. It was a strange feeling. I wondered if anyone else in the room felt the way I was feeling.

The crowd formed a walkway for Ainu. It was as if they were recreating Moses's parting of the Red Sea. Oikawa hopped off the table and dashed toward her. I thought people only did these melodramatic gestures in Korean romance flicks. I knew Oikawa always loved attention, but this perception of him was unlike anything I'd seen before. This was certainly a performance for a room of origami people. I watched everyone's fake smiles, over-the-top expressions...

When Oikawa kissed Ainu, the people cheered again. Wow, so much cheering. 

Their kiss was gentle and passionate. I stood in silence, watching them and not knowing how to respond. The night I walked in on them, my muscles and bones locked into place. Now, here I stood, once again, frozen in fear. My heart beat to a rapid rhythm. Oh, I did not like this feeling. It was an awful, awful feeling to have.

Oikawa words, from five years ago, echoed in my head. _Iwaizumi... Why are you still here? Please just leave._ but this time, I stayed. There was no reason for me to leave.

_____

Oikawa never got the chance to really be with me... not that he had too; it was his girlfriend's birthday. Yet, I couldn't lie to myself. Disappointment became my best friend for the night.

Although it was Ainu's birthday, people were so focused on Oikawa. Conversations were about _his_ volleyball career, _his_ projects, _his_ retirement, _his_ future plans. Ainu's presence felt like subcategory in these people's discussions. I almost felt bad for her. 

When Oikawa did spot me in the crowd (finally), he was already tipsy off of many rounds of champagne and whiskey shots.

He uttered a drunk mumble. "Iwaizumi... oh my... oh my god... I couldn't tell you... really... I could not tell you... just how... happy I am... that you are here. You... and Ainu... are... ah, are so special to me... It is so nice that... you're here... I'm so happy you're back in my life... I couldn't even express how much I've been missing you... You don't even know... It is so... Oh. I have something to say. A secret is that—"

I grabbed Oikawa's shoulders before he tipped over and fell into the crowd behind him.

"Oikawa, I think it's time for you to go to bed."

Ainu found us and gave me a hand. "Sorry, I'm so sorry," she apologized for Oikawa. "You shouldn't be worrying about this. He gets... he's been getting carried away at parties. This is a pretty recent thing, him getting a bit too... drunk." I gave her a curious look. I'd never experienced Oikawa's destructive side before. "He started acting like this a few days after the announcement of his retirement. I think he's been adjusting and coping."

His weight fell into mine. I pulled his arm around my shoulders.

"Let's bring him to bed?"

She nodded. Ainu took his other arm, and slowly and carefully, we walked Oikawa to their room. For a moment, Ainu and I were like two, exhausted parents who wanted nothing more than their high-energy son to fall asleep. It was a team effort between the two of us.

Once in bed, Oikawa curled up like an innocent child. Eevee hopped onto the mattress and fell asleep by his legs. Ainu laughed. "Sometimes, I have to fight both Oikawa and Eevee for a spot in bed," she bent down and kissed Oikawa's nose. "Thanks for helping me, by the way. It hurts seeing him like this."

Her voice shivered. A blue heartache cloaked every word.

We left their room, and Ainu led me to the balcony. Most of the guests had gone home at this point. She let her hair down, threw her high heels off, and wrapped her body in Oikawa's leather coat. She looked ethereal yet ghostly beneath the moonlight.

"I never liked big crowds," she revealed, letting out a relieved sigh. "Do you want to know something funny?"

"What is it?" I smiled.

"Keep this between the two of us, but I couldn't name half of those people!" Ainu looked down at the streetlamps, illuminating the roads below us. "Oikawa got really excited about my birthday, but I've always been a bit too introverted for these things."

"Do you think you've changed?"

"Hm, perhaps. I don't know how to tell him that I'm not as wild and out-there as I once was... Those early days, when we first moved to Tokyo, feel so far away. Less parties. More work to get done. Acquaintances come and go. People can be tiring."

"I understand how you feel." I really did relate with Ainu. "I hope you had a good night, despite it all. I have to say, I learned a lot about you tonight."

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah, it made me happy to hear about your gallery's success. I didn't even know that you were the one who created those murals around Tokyo _and_ in this house until some random person told me! You're no longer the shy girl I saw when we were kids, making art even after school hours. You're this accomplished human being... It's cool seeing you in this light."

Ainu blushed. "That means a lot coming from you, Iwaizumi."

"Well, I'm just a nobody, so remember all of the people who came tonight and literally applauded their admiration for you. A lot of people love you, you know?"

"Don't say that about yourself. You deserve to see light in yourself too, so be kinder to yourself." She paused, staring at the moon. "This may sound like a stupid question, but what was Oikawa like before him and I met?"

I remembered us as best friends again, years before we drifted apart from each other. "Oh, easy. He always had an adventure and loved dragging me out of my room and into some crafty scheme he'd plan out for us." I thought about Oikawa and our old memories. "However, I've been realizing that, deep-down, he's still the same guy. Kind of funny how life changes, but some people remain the same old, same old version of themselves. In the best way possible, of course."

"Hm, that's pretty interesting." She rested her cheek against the metal rail. "You're right, it's funny how life works out, uh?"

I glanced at her delicate features, elegant and melancholy. Ainu was everything I was not: intelligent, successful, and beloved. She had Oikawa, her dreams, and accomplishments. I had five bartending shifts each week, expired noodles, and a shoebox apartment. 

I imagined Oikawa, reaching for Ainu's hand in the rain, touching the softness of each other's lips, and wrapping his arms around her waist in their king-sized bed.

After Ainu, why would he ever kiss me again? Seeing her, I understood why. Years ago, when we were young and foolish, why did we do the things we did? Ainu's beauty explained why Oikawa wanted "to be a normal guy again". Even today, those words still stung, but her angelic nature made me understand a sliver of Oikawa's past reasoning.

She was perfect. Bright and kind. Generous and inspiring. We were the same age. We came from the same hometown. We had similar upbringings. Yet, she was everything I could not become, and she had everything I did not have. For so many years, she had Oikawa and all of his love. 

I was your average joe, another person lost in the crowd.

When Oikawa fell in love with her, I lost everything we'd built since we were five years old. My childhood best friend slipped away for what felt like forever. For years, I was no longer in his life.

Though, I could never get upset at Ainu. As we sat together, I saw the shy and innocent parts of her high school self. I wondered if she also saw parts of the old Iwaizumi. What do we still carry as adults? How are we all living in the madness of Tokyo? Perhaps, even as grown-ups, humans never fully abandon their childhood selves.

"I know we never got to know each other very well back in high school," I admitted, "but thank you for what you've done for Oikawa. He really wouldn't be where he is now if it weren't for you."

"You really think so?"

I remembered seeing Oikawa and Ainu stay on campus, the two of them always on their daily grind. Oikawa practicing his serves for endless hours. Ainu, who turned the art classroom into her second home. The two of them worked harder than anyone else at Aoba Johsai High.

"Of course."

"That means the world, Iwaizumi."

I settled into my vulnerable honesty. Ainu wiped the fading lipstick off of her lips. I closed my eyes but could still sense how the moon illuminated the dark sky. One by one, guests left the building. After a few yawns, Ainu and I wished each other a restful goodnight. She soon slipped into bed with Oikawa. I slowly made my way back home.

Walking across the street, back to my small apartment, I couldn't help but recognize an unbearable loneliness fester within me. I wanted to cry, but I was not able to give myself a reason or explanation to why I should. I couldn't just mindlessly sob.

In bed, I quietly recited Oikawa's speech. _I met Ainu in high school when we were still young and clueless teenagers, and since then, she has been my rock and source of light. For so many years, we've supported, uplifted, and loved each other through the ups and downs of life._

Oikawa spoke about Ainu with an outpour of memories. 

Ainu spent these last few years seeing Oikawa grow into the person he'd always wanted to be, and I was completely absent from his life. I grew up with Oikawa, but Ainu got to see him actually, truly grow up. 

In elementary school, Oikawa and I promised each other that we would be friends forever. I couldn't wait for us to grow up together. It was my biggest wish, something I'd always hoped for since we were kids.

Tonight, I realized how we weren't able to fulfill that promise.

 _I think this is what we call sadness and remorse, Iwaizumi,_ I could almost hear my mother say.

They had each other, but I could not tell you a single thing about this new, adult Oikawa beyond what I had already known. After our rift, I could no longer say that I truly _knew_ Oikawa. We were children at the time. Too much time had passed. 

I would do anything to rewind time and repair our friendship. I would be a happy man if I got to see what Ainu got to experience, to see Oikawa grow out of his teenage years and into who he is now, but there was no way to make up for our lost time. 

All I could do was grieve for the memories I never had.

I touched my bare chest. The sadness and loneliness made my skin cold to the touch. I finally understood why I felt the way I did, and once the realization settled in, I cried. That night, I cried until I was left with nothing except my fragile body, the empty silence, and the cloudy stretch of twilight.


	10. the only true love story

My grandfather—Ojiisan—loved murmuring to himself, "People these days... we no longer know how to love. We are so greedy. So selfish. We need more love in this world. Listen to your old Ojiisan. I know better. Old people are very, _very_ wise. Yes, we are like the trees. Like the trees, indeed!" When Ojiisan was still alive, Oikawa and I would sit by his feet and listen to his stories. Most were absurd, but as elementary schoolers, we did not know any better. 

My grandfather left his mark, which would make him very happy. Even today, I could still hear his sweet insanity, echoing from the living room.

_Iwa-Chan, the next time you go to the rice fields with your mother, look at the stars! You will see my brothers and the Ojiisans before me! Tell them I said hello, okay!?_

_You two boys, when you and Oikawa find girlfriends, be careful. They might turn into wild boars and run far away! You will have to chase them... but don't. It is too late. They are having fun in the woods, and they do not need your pity!_

_Listen, my grandson, do not forget to pray to the river... or else you will drown one day! HA. HA. HA! Just kidding. You should be more afraid of the winter spirits. Those will get ya. They'll pull you away into the underworld... Oh yes, they will! Stay alert!_ This line was always followed with a howl of laughter. Death never failed to crack him up.

However, every once in a while, he would begin a story about my grandmother—Obaasan, as I called her. Oikawa's deep brown eyes would grow wide as I leaned into my grandfather's leg, eager for him to continue. These anecdotes of her were the real gems of Ojiisan's memories. They were the reason Oikawa and I would stay up late, listening to his other irrational tales, just to hear a story about Obaasan. Because she passed away around the time Oikawa and I became friends, I savored each and every recollection Ojiisan still had.

My mother and father never showed many emotions toward each other. My parents' love was rigid and cold, so every romantic story from my grandfather was a treat. It was a secret glimpse into something that almost felt surreal. His stories reminded me that, somewhere out there, love might still exist.

& Ojiisan loved reminding us of a love that was real, and for him, that was exactly the bond between him and Obaasan. The stories were pure and simple: When they were twelve, they met while tending the yard of a mutual family friend. When they were thirteen, he asked her to be his first love. When they were fourteen, they fought over something quite petty, and Obaasan stopped talking to Ojiisan for five weeks. It became "the longest five weeks" of Ojiisan's life. When they were seventeen, they snuck away from home at 2:00 AM to tell each other "I love you". The moon was bright, and you could see the North star from the fields. Ojiisan and Obaasan's love remained a secret for years and years. 

In their twenties, Obaasan moved away, but their love floated through letters and once-a-month trips. When she returned to the Miyagi region, Ojiisan discovered that Obaasan had grown fond of British poetry, so one day, he spent his earnings on a stack of Japanese-English dictionaries from the wise scholar with a garage of books. They taught each other phrases that made their hearts beat a little bit faster, the kind of words found in poetry collections and in the journals of famous authors. Words like...

_Serendipity_

_Ephemeral_

_Ambrosia_

_Bungalow_

_Lullaby_

_& Joy._

"What's this?" Obaasan would point at peculiar words that indicated different body parts. "Hair? Cheek? Mouth?"

Ojiisan responded by brushing his fingers through her hair, caressing her cherry-plump cheeks, and kissing her lips. "Your hair, your cheeks, your mouth. Understand now?"

Years after my grandfather's death, Oikawa and I discovered Obaasan's letters to him. They were written a few years before her passing, and my grandparents made a promise to keep them for me—a gift from the ancestors, of some sort. Oikawa and I were only thirteen at the time, but it felt like the right time. It felt as if Ojiisan was back from the dead and visiting us again to tell another story. I imagined him opening the tiny box of unsealed messages. By this point, my grandparents' story clung to Oikawa just as much as they resonated with me.

My grandmother's writing was delicate and wispy.

_My Dearest Husband,_

_For so many years, we've tried searching for English words to describe the endless ways we love one another. I remember us flipping through those dictionary pages, picking apart each and every definition for the string of letters. I found "happiness", "luck", "sunshine", and "horizon". You found "sacrifice", "harvest", "laughter", and "passion". So many words, it makes me laugh sometimes. I guess, what I'm trying to say is that no word could fully define the spectrum of love I have for you._

_I can say "I love you" a million times, in English and in Japanese. I can say "aishiteru" until our nighttime giggles fade into dreams. I love you, I love our children, I love the world we have crafted for each other... Yet, it never feels enough. My heart is bursting for more words to reveal themselves. Is that selfish of me?_

_Now, I feel myself growing weak. My legs are tired, and we could no longer climb hills as we did as young souls. However, I still love you and your white, white hair. Your ugly, ugly wrinkles are so, so beautiful to me. Do you see now? How can I say "I love you"? There are no words to fully express this love._

_It sometimes hurts to say this. I am old, and I can almost see the final horizon approach me. My sickness flows through my body, and I know that I cannot leave without at least an attempt of another love letter—even if they are not as passionate as the ones we wrote at age 24._

_Nonetheless, these are still my words, and my sweet lover, I love you._

_Sincerely,_

_Your Wife._

That evening, Oikawa and I closed our eyes as we lay on my bedroom floor. We played my grandparents' old records and spoke very little to each other, which was quite unusual. There was too much to take in, but I suppose, that was a good problem to have.

"I hope we'll also find true love... you know, the kind of love that's just like what your Ojiisan and Obaasan had. I want that."

"I think their love was one of a kind," I replied, "but I do hope so too."

Today, my grandparents' letters are hidden in my childhood bedroom.

Their words are priceless. I could never bring myself to carry them outside of the city they fell in love in.


	11. norwegian wood

_Hajime_ , Mom's voice chimed from my unopened voicemails, _we are so excited to see you next week! Oikawa told us all about what you two have planned. I didn't know you boys got back in touch. Anyway, your father and I cannot wait to see you. Have you been eating the vegetables I sent? Well, you should get some rest. You must be very busy. I didn't expect my son to be coming back home anytime soon. Well, I don't want to get too ahead of myself. We'll see you soon. Have a restful evening, okay? Don't sleep too late._

I held the telephone in my hands, staring blankly at it. Exhausted and sleep-deprived from my 11 PM shift, I replayed the voicemail one more time. My mother's voice filled my apartment. Then, just like that, it was gone again.

 _Ach_ , that goddamn Oikawa. What did he plan with my mother? What was he scheming this time? _ARGH_ , he was well aware that I don't have all the free time in the world. Was he expecting me to call my boss and rearrange my whole work schedule...

Okay, breathe, breathe. Calm. Calm. Calm.

"Maybe, this is my chance to prove myself as a better son," I mumbled to no one as I dialed in Oikawa's number. "This is just a chance to be a better son," I whispered again, convincing myself of this made-up silver lining.

"IWA-CHAN!" his voice bursted from the other end of the line, erupting into my ears. "How sweet of you to call. Is this a nightly goodnight chat we'll be having from now on? How romantic would that be, right?"

"Shut up."

"And... he's back to normal. Okay, what's up?"

"Did you call my mother?"

"Yup."

"Telling her that we'll be back in Miyagi? Next week?" I wanted to yell at him, but my voice remained steady and calm.

"Yuuuuup." His jolly tone annoyed the shit out of me.

"Why didn't you call me before? I have work all week, and my relationship with my mother... Well, it hasn't been the smoothest. Why didn't you—"

Oikawa cut me off. "It had to be done. We're both homesick, Iwaizumi. Our parents miss us. C'mon, let your stubbornness go for once."

I groaned into the phone. "M'kay," I responded with sarcasm, "I guess I have to spend my nonexistent money on train tickets now... Poor me... I'll be starving for weeks."

"Oh, yes, about that. I already bought us two train tickets. I'll see you on Sunday. Shinkansen Station. 8 AM. Don't be late! Oh, and no need to worry about getting out of work. I talked to your boss today. I think we're friends now," his voice rang with that aggressive certainty. Oikawa always had his way of getting what he wanted. "Don't want to keep our poor mothers waiting!"

"Why are you like this?"

"Boo-hoo, whatcha gonna do? Cry because I'm bringing you back home with me? At least I'm not stuffing you into a suitcase... Hm, or will I!?"

"Hmph."

"Complain all you want, Iwa-Chan... but we both need some time away from Tokyo. You know that. I know that."

Maybe you're right, I wanted to say, but instead, I grumbled, "Fine. I'll see you soon, I suppose. God, I've forgotten how good you are at plotting things."

_____

Oikawa stood at the station. He wore a long coat, making him look older than he actually was. He caught my gaze, with that excited grin on his face, before I even recognized him. In the hustle and bustle of the Shinkansen Station, he looked more like a city man than anything else. It was as if he had outgrown his status as an athlete. He blended in with the sophisticated businessmen and fancy women, leaving town for important meetings and gatherings.

Somehow, eager fans spotted him anyway. They rushed to him, like a swarm of bees, demanding photos and autographs. Oikawa still loved it. Just like his post-game interviews, people swooned over every word that came out of his mouth. For all I knew, Oikawa could've been saying, "Y'all are buffoons", and these fans would still be fainting and moaning and collapsing in obsession.

If that were me, I'd be having a conniption.

I towered over the excited girls and schoolboys.

"Ready to go, Shitty-Kawa?" I yelled from the back of the crowd.

"Hey! No cursing in front of the young fans!" Oikawa had to push through pods of overzealous people to get to me. "Goodbye, everyone! You all mean so much to me! Have a good day now! My friend and I have a train to catch! Goodbye!" He shouted back at them as I pulled him away.

We found a bench by the tracks. Oikawa sat upright, patting down his coat and placing his leather luggage in-between our legs. I was slouched against my beat-up backpack. Sweatpants and a flannel shirt kept me warm. From the perspective of an outsider, we looked like two complete strangers: a celebrity and a beggar.

I rolled my eyes and nudged his arm. "You are the biggest attention-whore I've ever met."

"They're nice to me. Not many people are actually nice to me these days."

I stood up and leaned in. "What do you mean?"

"Eh, it's nothing," he brushed it off. "Look. Our train is here. Let's get good seats away from people, so we can eat our snacks."

"Did you bring snacks?"

"Your favorite. A whole bag of nori maki rice crackers. I remember how you would race to the market between class periods for these. Always late to chemistry... and practice. Coach would yell at you."

"Wow, you remember all that?" my face flushed. It was a peculiar warmth. He tossed me the bag of crackers. "I didn't realize your brain had the ability to memorize such specific details."

We hopped on the train.

"You're a big meanie, Iwa-Chan. Shut up and eat the damn crackers!" He commanded. I opened the bag. We settled in the very back. The train sped away from Tokyo. I munched on the crackers until I was full. Oikawa laughed. We gazed out the window, and at each other, until Tokyo slipped out of our perception. Then, we fell asleep to the sight of green fields.

_____

I woke up to Oikawa pressing his face against the window. He gripped the armrest while his other hand clutched a copy of _Norwegian Wood_. Outside, storm clouds covered the sky. The storm was so heavy that shades of asphalt gray had tinted the entire world. Raindrops raced one another, and I traced them like I did when I was a little kid.

"How'd you sleep?" His voice, airy and quiet. He must've woken up not too long before me. I could tell because he hadn't yet noticed his messy ruffle of post-nap hair.

I rubbed my eyes. "I'm groggy as fuck. How many stops do we have left?"

"Just one."

"Cool, and how did you sleep?"

"I couldn't fall asleep. The thunder kept me awake, but I think I like when it rains." Oikawa's lips curled into a sly smile. "Also, you were snoring like crazy. I may as well sleep with an alarm clock against my ear."

The train came to a slow and steady halt.

 _Next stop: Sendai Station. Please exit the train if this is your destination._ The soft female voice echoed through the passenger cars. Tired travelers lowered their baggage and crowded around the door.

Just like that, I arrived back home. I stared out at the city we would visit as kids. Already, the skyscrapers no longer suffocated us as they do in Tokyo. The buildings did not hover over us like titans. They were approachable, friendly. Sendai might be the capital city of the Miyagi prefecture, but compared to the rapid everythingness of Tokyo, it was a town of humdrum monotony.

I clenched my fists, knuckles turning white. A tense tremble ran down my spine. This... _this_ closeness to home—what was _once_ home—sent me down a spiral of jittery thoughts.

"Take a deep breath, Iwa-Chan." He placed a hand on my back. "You know, I almost cried the first time I was back in Miyagi. It was horrible. It felt like I was in high school again."

I laughed, a bit sarcastically. "Okay, easy for you to say, oh-so-beloved Tōru. It must have been _so_ hard being Aoba Johsai's picture-perfect student. Unlike you, I was a total loser."

"God, shut up. No you weren't."

"Yes, I was!"

"Sometimes, it feels as if you forgot that we actually knew each other very well in high school." He smiled. "Maybe even a bit _too_ well."

"Hmph, whatever you say." Then, I registered the second half of his remark. "Wait, what do you mean by that?" What was that?

He ignored my question and pulled on my jacket sleeve. "C'mon, I see our mothers."

Oikawa raced toward his mom. He gave her a kiss on the cheek, and she was screaming and jumping up and down with so much excitement. I could've mistaken her for a fan. My mother, on the other hand, simply waved. I bent down and gave her a loose squeeze. She was never much of a hugger. Nonetheless, her eyes were glossy and contemplative.

I couldn't tell if she was upset at me for taking so long to visit her... or if she was relieved. Perhaps, she was just content to see me and Oikawa back in the Miyagi prefecture. The distance between us collapsed into a joyful sadness.

"Hajime, it took you so many vegetable boxes. Finally, you are back."

My mother appeared shorter than I remembered. Had I grown since moving to Tokyo? Unlike the tiger mom who loomed over me during my teenage years, she appeared fragile... almost vulnerable with her porcelain skin. Her hair was whiter than ever before. Her expressions were now shaped by a river of wrinkles, curving and sloping around her eyes.

I never noticed how much time had transpired between us and the life I left behind.

"Mama, I'm glad to be home."

In the car, Oikawa and I sat in the back seat as our mothers drove out of the city and into the rural suburbs of Miyagi. Oikawa finally passed out. His head fell onto my shoulders. A bit of his drool got on my shirt. I pretended to sleep while our mothers chatted about our childhood.

"Remember how the boys would stay up all night playing video games together?" My mother laughed. "I wonder what they'll have planned now. All grown up. Such young men."

"Oh, yes! Such sweet memories, and do you remember how they would cook for each other even as kids? I would take pictures from the upstairs room while they ate on the grass. It was so precious! You're right. They're all grown up now."

_____

By the end of the sixth story, told by Oikawa's mother—about the childhood allergies he made up to get out of school—we were back in my childhood home.

Oikawa's mom left to take care of his younger siblings. It was just me, my parents, and Oikawa. My father wrapped his arms around the both of us. Being friends with Oikawa's father, he always viewed him as a second son. He looked so happy, seeing us as friends again.

I could tell that Oikawa's wasn't intending on returning to his loud and unruly household. Not for this week, at least. Also, Oikawa discovered that his sister took his room after he moved out to Tokyo. "Classic."

"It's her room now, and there's nothing I could do about it," he joked, but I knew that his childhood home had changed for him just as much as it did for me. Our hometown became something entirely different from what we knew as kids. Through time and age, Oikawa's siblings still found a way to scheme for what they wanted, and this time, it was Oikawa's old room. I could see where they all got it from. Must be in their genes.

His little sister might not give up her new room, but I found out that our mothers already found a new solution. I stepped into my childhood bedroom and discovered that two mattresses were set next to each other. 

Right away, Oikawa threw his bags onto my floor and jumped into _my_ bed.

"We're sharing a room!?" we both exclaimed with polar demeanors. One excited. The other ready to rip his own hair out.

"Aren't you excited!? C'mon, it'll be like our middle school days! I knew this week was going to be fun, but I didn't realize it was going to be _this_ fun," he imitated the voice of a child.

I took a deep sigh and glared at his stupid smile. "Well, it is what it is."


	12. confessions in miyagi

Growing up, Oikawa and I spent our nights as nocturnal creatures. We snuck out of the house to gaze at the stars, searched for animals we could hear only from afar, biked around town while others were fast asleep. Our younger selves would be disappointed in the depleted people we’ve become. They would call us “old” and “boring”. I guess we were pretty lame. By dinnertime, we were exhausted beyond recognition. We both held our heads up with our hands in order to keep ourselves awake. Our eyes were so red and puffy that my mother urged us to get in bed.

“You boys need rest! Go, go! Get ready for bed. I can cook more tempura tomorrow,” my mother insisted, pushing us up the stairs. By nightfall, we made our way back into my childhood room.

In the darkness, Oikawa and I lay six feet apart from each other. We were comfortably tucked into our futons, but I could still feel the tense muscles and bones of our bodies. His exhales were soft and husky. The crisp countryside air flowed from the open windows and through our lungs. Our breaths carried the weight of dusk, heavy and filled with thought.

The last time Oikawa and I slept next to each other, things happened. Too many things. I wondered if he remembered as well. Yet, what would that change? We both knew better. We were both alive and experiencing it all. There was nothing to be erased once you’ve lived through it.

“I remember these nights with my cousin, when we all stayed at my grandma’s house. We had this silly game where we all had to say something before going to bed,” I broke the silence between us. His face was barely visible, but I could feel him listening quite intently.

“What would you all tell each other?” From his tone, I knew his eyes were squinting at the patch of moonlight on the ceiling. It was as if he wanted to visualize my words. This was an old trait of his.

“I could barely remember now, but we would tell stories. Chiko—not sure if you remember him, weird guy—always had a scandalous story from his high school in Kyoto. But most of us would just share a good moment from the day. Sometimes, our drunk aunts and uncles would join us just to tell a thing or two. It was nice.”

And it was different back then. I was the youngest one, always entranced by what my older cousins had to say about life, the girls they dated in high school, where they’re going to university. As a child, it felt like experiencing bits of their young adult life. What it meant to be “all grown up”. Adventure, love, and freedom captured the essence of their many stories. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but now that I’m actually an adult, I felt like I had missed out on something. Maybe, life was destined to be more mundane than what their stories made them seem to be.

“I’m in,” he blurted after a moment of contemplation.

“In with what?”

“You know, this thing you would do with your cousins. Revealing something to each other in the dark. Before bed, just in time for us to escape into our dreams. It actually sounds like fun.”

“Fuck, I couldn’t tell stories like Chiko did.”

“Doesn’t have to be stories.” Oikawa paused for a second. “Hm, we could tell each other a secret. Things you don’t know about me. Things I don’t know about you. So much time has passed since we last hung out like this. Maybe this could be our way to learn about each other again.”

I bit my lip. I wished we already knew each other’s secrets by now. “Sure. I’m ready.”

“I’ll go first. We can start off nice and simple.” His voice was deep and raspy, but he was enjoying this game of confessions. I could feel his smile. “When we first got to high school, I broke into your academic locker to find your schedule. I promise I didn’t look at anything confidential. I just wanted to match my classes to yours.”

“Where was I? Didn’t I lock my locker?”

“Yeah… but you’re not very discreet at keeping your combination code a secret. I mean, you would mumble it to yourself every time you unlocked it. _14-27-13_ , _14-27-13_. Even _I_ still remember it.”

“Sneaky.” I smiled at his confession. “Why’d you do that? We practically saw each other every other day, even if we weren’t taking the same classes.”

“I think I wanted _more_ time with you. You were probably so fucking annoyed by me,” he chuckled, “but I think, deep down, I also wanted to think the way you did. I wanted to see what you saw in history, literature, and art. Pick apart that mind of yours.”

“I always wondered why you were enrolled in so many of my classes.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, your turn now.”

A million memories raced through my mind, and Oikawa leaned closer to me as if doing so would make me think of something faster. Landing on a confession was difficult. I thought back to the first time Oikawa and I became friends, on that playground where children roamed like wild animals. A scrawny boy dumped a bucket of sand onto Oikawa’s head, leaving him crying as a million mineral bits clung to his clothes. I peered from my book on wizards and magical spells. Oikawa was crying and crying. He was so loud. I approached him, wanting him to shut up. He looked up at me, instantly wanting to be my friend. Either way, it made him stop crying. The feeling of having a friend was an exhilarating one, something I had not ever experienced before.

“So,” I began. “It was when we first became friends. We didn’t have each other’s phone numbers. Our parents hadn’t even met each other, but I still wanted to find ways to see you after school. I would come and sit on your front porch for hours. Literally, for hours, hoping you would come out. Sometimes, I would even throw little pebbles at your window. It ended up being your parents’ window, though. They were probably so confused. I mean, imagine seeing a random ass child every single day, throwing shit at your window.”

“Did I ever come out?”

“No, I’m pretty sure you were at junior volleyball practice.”

“Damn. I’m sorry. Will you forgive my younger self for leaving you out and waiting for so long?”

“Sure, yeah. After all, you were the first friend I ever had. Does that count as two secrets?”

“The more the merrier.”

We accepted each other’s stories, eyes growing heavier with every second passing. As kids, we would be up all night telling them. Tonight, we were still hungry for each other’s stories, but our adult bodies were exhausted and on the verge of falling asleep.

“Four more nights. Should we continue telling each other a secret until we head back to Tokyo? Afterwards, we’ll leave it all behind. What happens in Miyagi stays in Miyagi?”

“Till’ tomorrow night. Your secrets are safe with me,” I replied.

“Till’ tomorrow night. Sleep tight, Iwa-chan.”


	13. his body against mine

I couldn't remember most of it, but it began with Oikawa whispering into my ear, _let's get out of this place_. Side by side, we roamed the foggy night. He led us to the nearby forest and up the treehouse we shared as kids. Inside, we smoked a lot of pot. We laughed until our ribs hurt. For some reason, we joked about marsupials for a very long time, and I sat on the floor by his feet and rested my head against his calf. 

I touched his strained muscles, and he said that his knee had fully recovered and that he's getting back into volleyball soon. They want him to train in Argentina, so he broke up with Ainu last month. I said that I'll miss him. He said that he'll always visit Japan and that I should come to Argentina. Apparently, Buenos Aires is called the Paris of South America. He mentioned how there is a lovely neighborhood called Palmero where we could get a place together for very cheap rent. A third of Tokyo's prices, in fact. For a moment, I really considered it.

Our cheeks turned pink, and we made our way to the small, twin-sized bed. I felt his chest against my back, beating, and I could've faded into the minty air of his heavy breaths. When I turned around, his mouth grazed against my nose.

 _Iwaizumi_ , he said, and we both laughed.

When he said my name, the world turned upside down and melted into shades of rosewood and turquoise. _I want you so badly. You don't even know_ , I responded. My words seemed to slip out of my mouth with zero control. Wait, this could not be said yet. We still had other confessions to reveal. Just now, we were just sharing bits of our childhood secrets. How did we break the innocence so soon?

_Promise we won't leave each other again?_

_What would you do if life pulls us apart?_

_I think I would break down._ His voice was low, sultry, serious. It captured everything.

_I'm afraid, Oikawa. I'm scared of something, and I'm not sure what it is._

I pushed myself up, and he got into my lap. We traced our fingers along the details of each other's faces. I wanted to memorize every feature. Those sad brown eyes. Soft dimples. Lines that appeared only when he was genuinely, wholeheartedly happy. He brushed his hand through my hair and caressed the nape of my neck, gently stroking my skin. He was looking at me in a way that I had not seen since our first night in Tokyo... and with that gaze, I'd forgotten how to breathe. My lungs were filled with something else, and it was not air. It was a certain kind of longing. It was irresistible, overwhelming, powerful. It was indescribable.

Oikawa was breathing hard and saying things like, _I want you_. I slipped my hand under his shirt and felt his skin. It reminded me that we were alive. We stripped our clothes off and kissed until we could no longer talk. I was inside him, and it felt so good that I could only think of him, and nothing else mattered. Everything seemed to have disappeared. We were shivering. Oikawa trembled as my arms wrapped around his waist. I held his naked body against mine.

We were sweaty, but it felt so good that we could only continue even though the both of us had no understanding of how things happened so fast. I ran my thumb around his soft, pink lips.

Then, voices we had not heard before shattered through our private space. We did not recognize them. I could not tell you who they belonged to, but the echo was loud. I covered my ears, but the rumble entered through.

 _Oh, how foolish could you be!?_ they yelled at me. _He doesn't love you! He's leaving you, but you're still holding onto him!_

He doesn't love me, I thought to myself. Admitting that was what hurt the most.

I began to sob.

As I cried, ocean waves engulfed our world. Salty water flooded in, breaking through the windows, crushing down the forest trees. We were trapped, holding each other until—

_____

I woke up in a sweat. Oikawa wasn't next to me. 

He must have gotten up earlier. I lifted my heavy blanket and looked under my waistband: _fuck_. Immediately, I wiped the wetness from my briefs and hopped in the shower before anyone could witness the redness on my face: the weight of humiliating embarrassment. Hot water trickled down my body, and by the time I was dressed, I'd forgotten what really took place in my dream. After all, it was just a dream. No one knew, not even myself. Even I'd started losing my own recollections. Nonetheless, I wished I could remember it all to explain why it made me feel so strange. It threw my morning out of balance.

I suppose, there were a few things I could recall. I remembered Oikawa. I remembered it being... a situation that did not happen between friends. We were holding each other, but I couldn't tell you what else had transpired. 

I threw my clothes into the laundry hamper. Eh, the mind works in mysterious ways, I guess.

Downstairs, my mother and Oikawa were cooking breakfast. Oikawa had on my mother's polka-dotted apron. He looked ridiculous. I wanted to throw on a chef's hat to complete the attire.

"Goodmorning, Iwaizumi!" My mother exclaimed in a joy I had not seen in a long time. "Look at Oikawa's tamagoyaki omelettes! Aren't they lovely? He even made this yummy sauce."

"Morning, mama. Mornin', Goody-two-shoes-kawa."

"How'd you sleep," Oikawa asked, flipping over a fluffy pancake, "I wanted to wake you up, but you were deep in the dream-state, murmuring about marsupials, specifically koalas and wombats, so I didn't want to wake you up."

"I talk in my dreams!?" I blurted out, a bit too defensively. I laughed it off. My voice was strained with a slight awkwardness. "Ha, I didn't know."

"At least you weren't snoring. Anyway, some orange juice?"

During breakfast, my mother gushed over how she remembered us being so young. "Oh, Iwaizumi and Oikawa, you two boys are all grown up now", she kept saying as we gulped down the stacks of pancakes and omelettes. We were ravaging our food like two hungry kids. In my eyes, we were forever young, but in hers, we've outgrown the innocence that she experienced as my mother.

My mother's curiosity tiptoed into questions about Oikawa's life. At a certain point, it began to feel like an interview about his personal relationships, work prospects, and so many other things... topics she wouldn't even discuss with me, her own son.

"Ah, careers," he chuckled, hiding the shakiness in his voice, "Well, I'm on a year-long contract with a few athletic brands. Nike signed me on quite recently. Right now, a lot of money could be milked from using my name on products and all that. My agent says I should take advantage of it, but who knows what will happen next since I've retired from the sport. By next year, there'll be a new rookie in town." Beneath the pride, there was also a twinge of sadness in his words. "Thankfully, Ainu has been very patient with me and supportive through it all."

"Oh, yes, I remember Ainu. She was my student when I taught at the middle school. Such a sweet girl. How is she?"

"Great, so great. She recently opened a gallery in Tokyo, and her team is already looking for new spaces in New York and Hong Kong. It's crazy how much she works. I've always been proud of her."

My mother turned to me. "Iwaizumi, look at how hardworking and inspiring Oikawa and Ainu are. You need to take after them! If they can do it, so can you."

Well, that felt like a punch to the stomach. My mother was back at it again. Oikawa looked at me with a guilty, uncomfortable half-smile. I looked out the window, peering my eyes away from my mother's deep glare. 

For October, the sun was unusually bright. Vibrant reds and oranges painted the cherry trees.

The silence between my mother and I became very intense.

Of course, it put Oikawa between the two of us.

"Oh! What a lovely day," Oikawa sprung up, gathering our plates and rinsing them in the sink. "Iwaizumi and I should get going in a little bit. We have a busy day ahead of us!"

 _We do?_ I wanted to say, but instead: "Yes! We'll be back soon, Mama."

My mother stood quiet for a moment. "Okay, have fun, boys. Don't put yourselves in danger like you did as kids." She went upstairs.

I turned to Oikawa. "Thank you for getting me out of that. My mother never fails to stab me with her words. What was I expecting? I should've been more prepared."

"Well, let's get out of here now. We have a busy day, right?" He smirked.

We put on our scarves and warm coats. Already, the air of our hometown was sweeter and crisper than anything you would find in Tokyo. Maple trees lined the streets and filled the parks with autumn hues. I'd forgotten how simple life was in Miyagi. I enjoyed the sunlight against my skin. The breeze. The quietness. Even the street cats weren't in a hurry.

Some things in life are out of our control. My mother will always pin me with discreet insults. My childhood bedroom will always have the same red blankets. My parents' house will always be cramped with my father's woodwork—but cozy, nonetheless. There will always be details in life that I could never change, no matter how much I wanted them to. Some things will always make me happy. Others will make me sad. That's just life.

But, for the first time, I was glad to be back home.


	14. to be lilac and lavender

“What do you want to eat for lunch today?” Oikawa held up our afternoon with a lot of small talk.

“I’m good with anything,” I uttered back.

“Hm, okay.”

“Yep.”

“Hm,” he cross-examined me.

“What?”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened between you and Emiko?”

“Whoa, way to change the topic. Also, weren’t we saving the secrets for tonight? It was your idea, after all.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes and inserted coins into the machine slot. The neon arcade lights rippled above us. Every piece of decor blazed in an artificial pink.

“Fine, I can wait a few hours,” he grumbled and refocused his gaze onto the retro screen. He was set on leveling up on this Donkey Kong game. I leaned back in my seat, watching Mr. Perfect lose to the pixelated characters. “Fuck this shit! I’m done with this stupid game! Okay, do you want a toy? I’m going to win you a toy. I just need to win _one_ thing. Ah! Fuck! I’m so annoyed at this fucking game! I’m annoyed at this stupid ass gorilla lookin’ fool!!!”

I took a sip of my beer and shot him a side-eye grin.

“Okay, the last thing I want is to utter another ‘fuck’, but for god’s sake, calm the fuck down, Crappykawa. It’s just an arcade game,” I rambled and Oikawa smirked. “But to answer your question, yes, I do want a toy.”

Oikawa gravitated to a claw machine filled with Pikachu plushies. Their yellow bodies were jammed in there as if someone had mass murdered a town of Pikachus. God, maybe this was the delusionment of adulthood. Where was my childlike wonder? Oikawa pressed his finger on the glass. “Oh, Yes. This is my time to succeed. I’m going to win one of these for you, Iwa-chan. Even if I have to spend twenty-thousand yen.”

“You have that money to spend on this? Rich people baffle me.”

“Ah, NO,” he screamed. The toy fell out of the claw and back into the mutated pile of his dead fellow Pikachus. Oikawa put in another coin. And another.

And another. I waited as Oikawa placed his hands on his hips to keep from yanking all of his hair out… before trying again. Until finally, after 5,000 yen (which could stock my fridge for two weeks), he won us one raggedy Pikachu. There was a stain on it.

I named it “Pikawa-Pikachu”.

This arcade used to be our childhood haven—the game-filled paradise we would run to right after classes and volleyball matches. In middle school, we mowed our neighbors’ lawns just to save money for rounds of Pac-Man and Space Invaders. Today, this whole place reeked of wet cigarettes and cheap plastic. At least Oikawa finally won something. After handing the plushie to me, he was back to being his calm and collected self.

“Sip of beer?” I handed the can to him. We stood, slightly out of place, in the dingey alley behind the arcade.

“No thanks. I’m trying to cut back on drinking. However, I could bum a cigarette from you.”

I raised an eyebrow and touched the pack in my back pocket. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I didn’t while I was still training, but it’s a bad habit I’ve taken up recently. Sometimes, I just need a smoke to ease up now that I’m retired and crippled.”

“You sound like an old man whenever you say that.” I moved the lit cigarette away from my mouth and slipped it between his lips. “Here, take mine. I’ve been trying to quit.”

People we vaguely recognized passed by us. Oikawa mouthed a few throaty hellos. I waved to the men drinking and gambling next to us. Suddenly, a familiar voice emerged from the pack of brawny men.

“Hold up. Oikawa? Iwaizumi?” The voice was deep and recognizable.

I looked up. Takahiro Hanamaki. _Makki_ , as Oikawa would call him. I hadn’t seen him in years. Almost couldn’t recognize him. He was covered in tattoos and sported a bleached-blonde buzz cut, but beneath all that, he was still Makki. He threw his arms around our shoulders, squeezing us into a tight hug.

He pulled us over to meet his group of friends. After high school, Makki moved to Taiwan, hoping to make music with some online bands he met, but they all went broke about a year ago. Thus, he is back in Miyagi. He got a job at the arcade, balancing shifts with these other gambling, tired-eyed men. We talked about Tokyo, high school, and our mutual friends who were still around. Apparently, some people we knew were now married. Others had kids of their own. The concept of people our age raising kids blew Oikawa and I away.

Makki looked at me. He looked at Oikawa. Then, he observed us as a pair, eyes moving up-and-down. “Hm,” he began to ask, “are you two... together?” Our eyes shot wide, and Makki’s cheeks turned red. “Sorry… sorry… was that a rude question? I always assumed that there was something between the both of—”

“No,” I cut him off. “We’re not. We just reunited as friends, that’s all. Oikawa is still dating Ainu. You remember her, don’t you?”

Makki looked mortified. “Yes! I do! Sorry, that was so out of place for me to intrude upon. I don’t know why I even asked”

“Don’t worry about it, Makki!” Oikawa placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’re just glad that we’re all finally catching up with you. It’s been too long. I’m glad that you’re doing well.” He always had a way with words.

“Thank you, capt”—we all, for a brief second, had a collective flashback of our Aoba Johsai volleyball dynamics, how Oikawa served as our leader in so many ways—“I mean, Oikawa. It’s great to see you and Iwaizumi doing well. Anyway, I have an arcade to run. Late for my shift. Come by again whenever you two are back in town, okay?”

We wished each other goodbye. The whole time, I was clutching onto the Pikawa-Pikachu. No wonder those scary-looking dudes were snickering at me that whole time. We walked out of the alley and into the sunlight. Our hometown felt different. Unlike those oblivious teenage years, I was finally viewing it without rose-tinted glasses.

“Don’t you think those Pikachus were suffocating in there? Each one was all stained and beat-up. I’m pretty sure they’ve been in there for years. Years! At this point, they’re all just a bunch of dead creatures stuffed into a glass box,” I couldn’t let go of this visual realization.

“You have a twisted, little mind.”

“Hey, you can’t say I’m wrong.”

“Well, if you put it that way… the amount of times I yelled ‘fuck!’ at all those innocent plushies. Those poor, confined guys. They didn’t deserve my wrath. They needed help. Now I feel bad.” Oikawa held a hand to his stomach. “Just kidding. I’m just really hungry, actually. Should we go help your mom with dinner?”

“Oh, Shittykawa. Let’s get you some food.”

His cheeks turned pink. He looked up at the dusky sky. “For real, honest thoughts about that angry side of me? I didn’t think those games would turn me into a raging asshole.”

“It’s fun to see again, Crappykawa, Shittykawa, Assikawa. I call you those names for a reason.”

“Ha, good to know, Iwa-chan.” He glanced at me with soft eyes.

“Why are you looking at me with that weird smile?” I chuckled.

“I’m just thinking about things.”

“Like what?”

“Can’t say. You were the one who reminded me to wait until tonight.” Oikawa’s cheeks turned red. Unlike the coldness I often give off, everything about Oikawa tip-toed on a tightrope of flirtiness. He’d always been hard to read.

_____

The Pikawa-Pikachu slept between our futons: right in the little gap.

Before bed, we had a hard time sitting still. Throughout dinner, we were too distracted to eat; I sensed the excitement race between us, ready to spill our truths and hidden memories in the darkness. “Did you boys eat already?” My father asked, “You are both awfully quiet tonight.”

It was as if everything in the day was simply a long preparation for the night. That was why we hardly spoke about in-depth matters in the afternoon. Everything we could possibly tell each other was saved. Words were simply kindling itself for the big flame.

I lit a candle, partly because I’d hoped to catch small bits of Oikawa’s expressions. Even in the dark, there was always something nice about watching the curve of his smile before that moment of laughter. We tucked ourselves into our respective blankets but rested close enough to hear each other’s whispers.

“You wanted to know about Emiko, and well,” I began, “I guess this confession stretches beyond our relationship and breakup.”

Oikawa listened, his gaze attentive and curious. I thought about Emiko. When she walked, her slender curves moved like ripples on a lake. Strands of black silk cascaded down her sun-kissed shoulders. When she applied her red lipstick, she transformed into a femme fatale—always, getting more and more beautiful. She knew that people lingered on her smile. I was seen as the lucky one: the scrawny kid who somehow got the girl.

Yet, I never felt so lucky being her boyfriend. She was lilac and lavender when, deep down, I wanted smoke and cedarwood. She was gentle and soft, sweet like brown sugar, but I yearned for rough edges. Where was the rough jaw? The hard muscles? In the late stages of our relationship, an internal jealousy brewed within me. Sometimes, just sometimes, I wanted to be the storybook maiden who gets saved by the prince. It was wrong of me to put things into gendered labels and boxes, but I always wondered what it would feel like to be held by a nobleman, to sink into his arms.

 _I think I’m gay_ , I’ve thought to myself many times before, _but no, it is more complex than that._

I loved Emiko. I truly did, but how far could a relationship go? Is it still love when we’re all drowning in a flood of “what if’s”?

“I don’t think I’ve ever loved a woman the way lovers should love” I confessed. “I think I loved Emiko while we were young and naive, but it wasn’t the kind of love that ever bloomed into anything profound or worthwhile.”

“Do you still think about her?”

“The thing is, I wish I did, but no,” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I hope I’m not an emotionless human.”

“You’re not. Trust me, you’re not.” He looked into my intense gaze. “Have you been dating other women in Tokyo?”

“Hm, well, that’s my dilemma. I really do want to fall in love again. I just don’t know if I’m capable of it. Strange, uh? People are always talking about love, but I can’t even bring myself to touch a woman. I don’t know why. I liked it in high school. Sex and lust and all that,” I took a deep breath. “But something changed when we left that little world of ours. I was the one who distanced myself in Tokyo, so Emiko and I decided to go our separate ways.”

I wondered what Oikawa was thinking about. He scrunched his nose in that curious yet tired way. His smile was melancholy and comforting. He stayed quiet for a long time. Perhaps, we were both trying to piece together our string of words. I wondered if he was thinking about us. Did his mind fall back on our first trip to Tokyo? It was the first time we explored each other’s bodies: hands slipping through ruffled hair, beneath wine-stained shirts, down our back muscles and thighs. Did he remember how our friendship broke apart when I began sleeping with Emiko instead? Did Oikawa ever sleep with other boys? Was I just an experience he wanted to have? Were we just exploring our identities and nothing more? Was a “nothing more” even possible in this scenario? What if—

“I can go now,” he said, stopping my stream of questions.

The candle’s yellow flame glowed against the side of his face, casting shadows that sharpened his features. He appeared in front of me like the figures in museum paintings: handsome and lost in the chiaroscuro shadows. A cold breeze entered my small window. Unconsciously, we squeezed just a bit closer to each other.

“Remember Yuna?”

“Your first girlfriend?”

“Good memory,” he laughed. “Well, Yuna broke up with me because I spent too much time with _you_.”

I snorted. “Seriously? To be honest, I wouldn’t have dated you in the first place. For a freshman boy, you were quite the player.”

“Yeah, looking back, I couldn’t blame her. I would feel very shitty if my boyfriend _constantly_ ditched me to go play video games with some other boy. I guess, the part I want to confess is that I broke your sculpture project afterwards. It seemed like an accident, but it was the day Yuna broke up with me, and I was just so angry, and you invited me over, and I unleashed all of my teenage angst onto your artwork. I was the stupid one, to you and Yuna. I never really apologized.”

He sighed in relief after telling me. It happened over eight years ago. I couldn’t even remember what the sculpture looked like, but it was as if Oikawa had been carrying this guilt with him in the back of his mind.

“Again, this is why I call you Shittykawa,” I joked. “Just kidding. I don’t even remember this sculpture, but I’m glad that the weight has been lifted off your shoulders.”

He laughed. “Well, now that we’re talking about this, you do have a way of making people’s girlfriends jealous, Iwa-chan.”

“Hm? What does that even mean?”

We both laughed, but Oikawa averted his gaze. “Don’t worry about it. Just keep being you, okay?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but sure.” Our laughter reached a level of drowsiness—that sedative, giggly feeling.

“I always think about your grandparents, you know. How they met when they were twelve and stayed together for all their lives. It’s a special kind of love.”

I missed them. Oikawa carried the same sadness. Ojiisan and Obaasan were, in many ways, his grandparents too. There was a lasting grief buried beneath the two of us, but all I could utter was: “You’re such a romantic.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m an unapologetic cheeseball. What could you do about it?” After some mundane, sleep-deprived chatter, he turned around and pulled the blanket to his chin in a cheeky manner. “I’m falling asleep. Should we call it a night?”

“Sure, we’ll save the rest of this conversation for tomorrow night.”

This time, it was Oikawa who kept me awake with his soft snores. I didn’t mind it. I loved how he glowed in the dark. It made me feel like lilac and lavender.


	15. a mother's lullaby

When I woke up, Oikawa was already gone. Even the sun was still resting below the horizon. His belongings were still here. Oikawa left a note by my bed:

_Iwa-chan,_

_I’ve got older brother duties to attend to (out-of-the-blue sister issues; it happens). Nothing to worry about though. I’ll be back tomorrow, and I have something planned out for us. I’ll see you then!_

_Love,_

_Your-favorite-kawa_

I sighed in disappointment. It might just be twenty-four hours without him, but it meant that we lost a night of secret-telling. However, there was something else I had to do. It was my silver lining, the reason I gave myself to come home, and I couldn’t go back to Tokyo without knowing what he’d written for me.

I rummaged through my box of childhood knick-knacks. I shifted through old key chains, athletic awards, and schoolroom valentine’s day cards until I found it: my grandpa’s letter box. It was old and dusty. The leather was falling apart, but that didn’t matter. It would forever stay in my life as my most priceless possession.

I took out the sealed envelope. It contained words I’d never read before.

_Open when you are lost. -Ojiisan_

I stuffed the letter into my jacket pocket, and I tip-toed downstairs, careful not to wake my parents up. Right as I touched the doorknob, my mother’s voice broke the early silence.

“Hajime?” she called out from the living room. She’d been sleeping there, staying up all night grading her students’ papers. “It’s so early. Where are you going?”

I thought about it. “The pond. I want to catch the sunrise.”

“Hm, okay.” She slipped back into her blanket. “Don’t be out too late, okay?”

“Yeah, I won’t.”

I stepped into the sleepy haze of dusk. The world was at its best before the morning chatter erupts, when we’re all floating in our respective dreams. I felt powerful knowing that I was roaming a world while others were still fast asleep. However, something was off. With every footstep away from my house, my mother’s voice rang in my head, louder and louder. _Hajime_ , it was the way she called out my name, as if I was doing _something_ wrong, like a foolish child.

I sat on a bench by the pond, facing east and waiting for the sun to rise. I held my grandfather’s letter, and slowly, I opened it. The tear of the envelope reminded me of the ephemeral, temporality nature of our morality. These words are stained onto paper, but his soul was elsewhere. I didn’t know what I would do once all of his letters were all opened and read. I imagined that my soul would evaporate into the wind, leaving nothing but that letter box behind. Would I disappear with his words?

My grandfather’s handwriting was bold and inky. Intense black ink deepened every brushstroke. It looked as if the words could’ve seeped through the Earth’s dark soil.

_Hajime,_

_My sweet one, always the gentle grandson. I see you’ve opened this letter. This one was written for when you feel lost, so right now, you must be feeling a lot of emotions._

_You know, when I was a boy, I once fell into an empty well. It was filthy, covered in spiderwebs and dirt. For hours, I yelled and yelled, thinking that I would die. After a long time, I gave up. No, giving up is the wrong word. I simply took some time to rest. I crawled into a corner and took a long nap._

_Then, it was your Obaasan’s voice that woke me up while I least expected it. I looked up. Her face blocked the burning sun. In that moment, she looked like the sun with sunbeams radiating from her head. Your Obaasan brought a rope with her, and slowly, I used it to climb my way back to the top. Once out of the well, she brushed the dirt off my clothes, and we looked back down into the bottomless terrain. What I found out is that, from up above, it wasn’t as deep and treacherous as I’d remembered. I was almost embarrassed for being trapped for so long, but your Obaasan gave me a kiss on the cheek. Maybe, all this time, she was my knight in shining armor._

_The chasm feels endless when you are lost in the bottom. Sometimes, it feels as if you’re floating through a void. Every once in a while, it feels as if you’ll be trapped forever. However, you’re not. That rope will come when you least expect it… when you’re napping… or when you’re just about to give up. It will come with sunlight and a hopeful smile. Sometimes, even some words of encouragement._

_Hajime, what is on that mind of yours? Something big must be going on because you always play it cool. You like to pretend that everything is fine: a boy who “doesn’t care”... but I know that soul a bit better than that. Once you take off your shield, you are such a sensitive boy. You love so deeply. You care so deeply… and that is why life can sometimes feel so painful._

_You are not lost. You never will be. You are just on a detour. You are just battling the storm._

_It’ll pass._

_I wish I could be there to help you, but I’m long gone by the time you’re reading this. Don’t be sad. You’re a big kid now, and big kids don’t need their grandfathers to hold their hands while they dance in the rain. So, go! Go dance in the rain! You may be dancing alone, and at times, this will make you feel lost, but my words are with you. I love you, my sweet grandson._

_Sincerely,_

_Ojiisan_

Tears fell onto his letter. The droplets turned his words and sentences into a Rorschach inkblot test. I watched my own sadness damage the paper and his handwritten brushstrokes. _No, please no_. I packed it back into the envelope and pocket. Then, I cried into my rough hands.

When the sun appeared, I’d run out of tears to cry.

I felt so lost, but I couldn’t even tell you why. People are all we’ve got in life, and yet, I’d always felt so alone. I flunked out of school, my jobs, and relationships. I spent my nights making drinks for people who reminded me too much of what could happen if I stayed like this forever. I’d been a horrible son for so many years. I wounded myself with people, and people had a tendency to wound me. I just never got it right, no matter how hard I tried. Would Ojiisan be proud of me? If he saw the loneliness chiseling away at me? Would he still love me?

_____

“You need to get rid of your old things,” my mother complained, over and over, as she poked through my closet. I rolled my eyes and lifted my copy of _East of Eden_ over my face.

She soon got tired of sorting out my belongings and fell asleep in my armchair. A pile of unfolded bed sheets and fresh laundry covered her like a blanket. I watched my mother sleep. Gray strands covered her head. The last time I saw her, her locks were jet black and healthy. Now, a new river of wrinkles streamed around her eyes and smile lines. The woman sleeping on the armchair was curled into a ball of gentleness. It was almost as if a single touch could shatter her fragile, porcelain mold. She was no longer the tiger mom who loomed over my life for so many tumultuous years. It was almost as if she was an entirely different person.

It made me sad. I’d ignored the passing of time for so many years, and now, I didn’t know how to approach this new person. While she slept, I kissed my mother’s forehead before heading off for a long walk into the night.

When I came back, my mother was also gone.

_____

I was in my bed when my mother knocked on my door. It was so gentle and quiet. I almost didn’t hear it. “Hajime,” she whispered.

I didn’t reply. I pretended to be asleep. She slipped into my bed, slowly wrapping her small arms around mine. I shut my eyes, not wanting her to see that I was awake.

My mother touched her face against my back. “I don’t say this to you very often,” she whispered like a mama bear in the night, “but I want you to know that I love you. I love you, Hajime. I am proud of you. I will love you forever. Until the day I vanish.”

Then, she sang a simple melody. It was a Japanese nursery song that she would sing to me as a child. I saw myself as a small boy; my mother with black hair and a young smile.

When the song was over, I reached out for her hand, and I held it near my heart. Her hands were small and rough. My mother sighed. It was filled with relief. We didn’t speak to each other. We simply hummed in harmony to the next lullaby. Every note made up for lost time. I became an innocent child again, sleeping in his mother’s arms. I wondered what it must have felt like to hold me. I’d grown over six feet tall. Most mothers would be proud of their sons for growing up so strong. Yet, I knew that all she wanted was for me to shrink back into my seven-year-old self... to fall asleep to her hymns.

We both cried, but... for the first time in years, I understood my mother’s love. It felt so nice to be loved again.


	16. when the fire goes out

“Trust in me!”

“But where are we going?”

“Just trust me!” Oikawa echoed back.

We climbed up the hills and down the valleys of our hometown’s lush slopes, chasing after these final seconds of dusk. Sunlight slipped away with grace, but it left us marching through uneven terrain and stumbling on rocks. The crescent moon appeared, and stars slowly sprinkled across the sky. In no time, we would be lost in the dark, and helicopters would have to find us (which is what my anxiety told me). We could easily be those archetypal characters in an American adventure-comedy flick: lugging around our tent poles, blankets, and walking sticks in the name of exploration. In those movies, one of stupid guys always goes missing. Yep, that would be me.

I was panting, out of breath and physically drained. Oikawa was the merry-go-lucky trip leader, hiking without a breathless sign of exhaustion. “We’re pretty much here!” he yelled while waving for me to hurry up. _Shittykawa, why did I agree to this!?_ I wanted to scream, but instead, I ran after him.

Hands on his hips, proud and dovelike, Oikawa stood at the top of the ridge.

The view was unlike anything I’d ever seen in Miyagi. We were high up in the emerald forests of this town. In the hills, we hid from the rest of the world. Willowy branches framed the corners of this vista. Down below, the lights of our small city glimmered like a million fireflies. I wanted to catch every speckle. The buildings, temples, and roads reminded me of a preschool toy set and how kids built new worlds out of colorful blocks and figurines.

We set up our tent, laid out our blankets and pillows, and Oikawa began building a fire.

“You really did zone out during every lesson at summer camp,” he mocked, “and boy scouts. and that wilderness training class our dads signed us up for.”

“The woods leave me sweaty and dirty,” I grouched.

“ _The woods leave me sweaty and dirty_ ,” he mimicked me in a grating voice. “Anyway, let’s begin with some kindling. The biggest fires are created when you start off with the tiniest twigs and driest leaves.”

I gathered what I could find, and we slowly formed an offering of decaying bark and woody stems.

“Cool, I’m gonna get some firewood.”

Oikawa took out a hatchet and began chopping down the pile of wood we collected. I could make out his silhouette—lean and athletic. He blew out a deep exhale with every log he cleaved. Oikawa swung his arms up and swiftly, in a single blow, striked down. His arms had so much power, and yet, everything about his movements were gentle and calming to watch. He brought over the pile of wood in his arms. I wished I had his strength and agility. My body felt out of place in the woods. Well, I was out of place everywhere I went.

_Ain’t that hard to admit._

The fire grew. We blew into the kindling and watched the flames engulf the temple of branches and logs. It all turned into a sea of burning blues and oranges. Fire might just be the most underrated element of them all. People abuse it, using it to hurt others, but it has a simple role: it provides warmth and light.

We stuck our hands out to defrost our fingertips. While the flames danced into the sky, Oikawa and I did not talk very much, besides a few comments about the nocturnal critters beginning their day to day duties.

When the flames finally died, we went into our tent and covered ourselves in warm layers of quilted blankets. The wind rumbled like an angry old man. It rustled through the trees and shook our tent. The gusts were so relentless that for a moment, I prayed that a tree wouldn't fall on us.

“I’m cold,” Oikawa complained.

“This whole thing was your plan, mate.”

“Aren’t you cold?”

“Yes, but it’s not a big deal.” I wanted to laugh. Oikawa spent the day living out his wilderness dreams, but now, a chill and some loud wind had made him shrink into a scared, little boy. I guess having a fancy apartment in Tokyo does this to people. “The blankets are keeping me warm.”

“I’m really cold. Can we squeeze in? You know, to utilize our body heat and all that. Camping trick from summer camp, remember?”

“Anything for you,” I chimed, sarcastically.

We brought our bodies closer together. It felt like our days stuck in middle school summer camp. Our parents sent us away to catch a break of their own. Oikawa and I never got along with the other kids. The boys were always slimy. They spent their days scheming ways to get with the girls. The counselors insulted everyone until we all felt shitty about ourselves. The icebreakers made things more awkward, and, for days, they only fed us cold rice and chicken. The only good thing about summer camp was the mochi they served once a week… and hot, july days I got to spend with Oikawa.

One night, on an unremarkable weekday of camp, Oikawa and I snuck away from our cabin to go sleep by the lake. We brought our blankets and pillows, and the two of us spent the night stargazing. We traced out Cassiopeia, the Big Dipper, Jupiter, and Mars. That summer, while I got lost in my books, Oikawa memorized the North sky. It was a strangely chilly night for August, so we slept in each other’s arms. Two boys asleep in their own little kingdom. The next morning, the three head counselors—all of them had popular kid personas—yelled at us and called our fathers.

 _Just disrespectful, so despicable of them_ , they shrilled into the phone.

Of course, our fathers didn’t care.

Now, things were reminding me of that night by the lake: just the two of us, so close together, facing the unknowns of the woods.

“Are you awake enough to continue on with our game?”

“How could I not be?” A smile could be heard in his voice. “I’ll go first.” Oikawa contemplated for a moment. “This place… Well, back in high school, I saved this spot for the last day the two of us would spend in Miyagi. Whenever I came here, I would wonder when that would be. Graduation? The last day of summer? One time, I thought we would stay here for the rest of our lives. Like, as deadbeat bums who never leave their hometown.”

“I wish we got to do that before we both moved to Tokyo.” A sadness stuttered in my voice.

“Hey, we’re here now, aren’t we? Maybe, we’ll never have an official last day in Miyagi.”

“No matter where we go, Miyagi will always be home.”

“Right.”

“It’s strange how I spent my entire life wanting to run away from this place, thinking it would solve all of my problems,” my voice trembled, “and yet, coming back, I finally feel light again… like I could breathe for once.”

“All roads lead to Miyagi,” Oikawa professed. “This place really is strange. Whenever I come back, I revert back to a version of myself I thought I’d outgrew a long time ago. Then, it comes back to me, and I’m caught in this limbo. Who am I? Really, deep down inside.”

“Has Ainu been here?” I asked, biting my tongue.

“No,” he replied right away, “she hasn’t.” He shifted the conversation away from Ainu. “So yeah, I guess that’s my confession. It’s nothing sensational, but I thought you should know. Your turn now.”

I never saw myself as a vulnerable person, but, somehow, the words came out, as if I had nothing to hold back in the first place: a release of what I’d been feeling for so many years.

“It’s kinda funny being here tonight because, for the first time in my life, I’m terrified of leaving. They say people are all we’ve got in this life, but even then, I can’t get rid of this lonely feeling” I sighed. “Oikawa, do you ever get lonely in Tokyo? Because I do, and it’s the worst feeling—to be surrounded by so many people and yet still feel so alone.”

I shut my eyes. A tear streamed onto my pillow. I wiped it away. My words were finally released.

“I do get lonely,” Oikawa replied, surprising me with his response. “Sometimes, I would go as far to say that I might be the loneliest man in Tokyo. I thought I was the only one who felt that way, Iwaizumi, but I guess that’s how loneliness works.”

“But you’re so loved… by everyone.”

“They love the billboards and TV interviews, but they don’t know me… or at least, they don’t know me like _you_ do.”

“Well, I don’t feel lonely right now. When I’m around you, the loneliness somehow leaves my body. It’s like there’s a switch in my head that you turn on-and-off. The moment you’re around, I feel like someone’s finally seeing me again, that I’m not just an empty voice lost in the void.”

“Iwaizumi, can I touch your hair?” Oikawa asked. “Like when we were kids and I would pet your hair like a cat whenever you had trouble falling asleep.”

We both laughed. I then touched his hand and brought it to the side of my face. Slowly, he ran his fingers through my hair, in a gentle caress, while reality escaped from my vision.

“I’m happy we have each other,” Oikawa whispered, eyes locked with mine, illuminated only by a sliver of moonlight. “It feels so good to be friends with you again.”

“It truly makes me happy too.”

As he stroked my hair, the world began fading away into a pool of nothingness. The woods turned into an effervescent dream, but everything said was real and alive. That I know was true. 


	17. this is halloween

After a week of settling back into my Shibuya rat-nest, Miyagi had drifted away from my mind like a distant hallucination. What even happened? Was it all even real? The moment we got off our stop in Tokyo, Oikawa checked his watch, repeating things like _shit, I’m so late, gotta go, so sorry_ , before calling a cab. I didn’t know what he had planned, but in Tokyo, he settled back into being an “adult”. We were no longer kids. He had responsibilities, meetings, being important—yeah, yeah, I get it.

Was it real? Was it? Yes, yes, it was. We were definitely in Miyagi, but now, we’re simply back in Tokyo. Time to cut out your dramatic bullshit, I told myself as I rode the train alone. I soon got back into my slump, a series of monotonous checkmarks that included my bar shifts and other mundane tasks: grocery shopping, helping old grandmas hang their laundry, running to the bank to pay off my bills. All of this left me exhausted by 6:00 PM. I was no longer staying up all night, sleeping beneath the stars and telling secrets with Oikawa.

Then, the end of October came around. I finally got the chance to break my slump: Bokuto’s Halloween party. He’d been planning it for many, many _months_. What can I say? It's the man's favorite holiday. This week, he sent at least thirty photos of his many costume ideas. First, it was Willy Wonka. Then, Spike Spiegel from Cowboy Bebop. David Bowie. Woody from _Toy Story_. Poseidon. The cast of _Zoolander_. Sexy Firefighter (this was roasted by Kuroo and shut down by Tsukishima. Akaashi enjoyed it.).

I arrived as Sherlock Holmes. I didn’t spam our group chat the way Bokuto did, but I still spent a lot of time on it, perfecting every piece down to a T. The cashmere scarf, wool overcoat, and two-button suit were all collected from hours and hours of thrifting, ravaging through Japan’s antique stores and my old neighbors' storage bins. Sitting on the train, dressed up as the iconic British detective, I felt a bit… powerful. Elusive, even. I was no longer Iwaizumi. 

It felt liberating... to slip out of my identity and into someone else’s.

“HEY, HEY, HEY,” Bokuto swung the door open, waving his hands and leading me into his living room. The décor was immaculate. Bokuto transformed his house into a movie set. There was something from every iconic Halloween film we all grew up watching. The entryway was lined with dolls, like the ones from _The Nightmare Before Christmas_. Classic prop items from _Friday the 13th_ and _Texas Chainsaw Massacre_ filled the living room and kitchen. He’d even taped posters of Jack from _The Shining_ onto the closet doors. A few times, I jumped when they caught me off guard. Bokuto could very well be a set designer if he wanted to.

Akaashi held out a platter of gory desserts, tinted in red food coloring to imitate blood. “Cookie? Eyeball Cupcake?”

We both grinned. After not seeing him for quite some time, I gave him a big hug. He seemed to be doing well. Tired and busy, like all young adults are, but well.

People crowded the living room, dancing and popping bottles of champagne. Friends, new and old, slowly filled Bokuto’s house. I recognized some, and others were new faces. Nonetheless, Halloween was nice because I didn’t have to explain who I was. _I was Sherlock Holmes._ Not Iwaizumi… and everyone felt the same way. People I'd never met before introduced themselves as their characters and reimagined identities. Whether it was something horrifically specific like Hannibal Lecter or ambiguously basic like a pink fairy, people played their roles with pride, truly turning into their characters. 

If only every party functioned in this way.

The music shifted from “This is Halloween” to “Candy Shop” by 50 Cent. Bokuto was definitely in charge of the playlists. Wait, it might be Tsukishima. Either way, one was ironically devising the song list, while the other would jam out to "In Da Club" and 50 Cent's entire discography on any given day.

Kenma and Kuroo ensconced in their own little world, chatting on the black sofa, Kuroo’s long arms around Kenma’s nervous shoulders. They were dressed as Yoshi and Toad. When people glanced at Kenma, wearing that cute mushroom hat, he immediately dodged their stares.

Bokuto and Akaashi seemed proud of their dark angel costumes, and they both looked stunning. They had on tall high heels, black silk slips, and custom-made angel wings. If anything, they outshined everyone and our last-minute, thrifty looks.

Tsukishima came as a bumble bee (yellow shirt with black sharpie marks). He definitely threw it together an hour before coming. However, he’d attracted a ladybug. It was Yamaguchi, one of my new co-workers. Apparently, Bokuto had been going to the bar more often outside of my shifts, and the two became good friends. 

Yamaguchi seemed mesmerized by Tsukishima, and although he was playing it aloof, I could tell that Tsukishima had the same attraction toward Yamaguchi. He would’ve left the freckled-face boy if he wasn’t having a good time with him. Every now and then, I would hear Tsukishima's rare laughter.

I circled the room, greeting strangers as my alter-ego. I hold up the vintage monocle to my eye, repeating things like "Hello, Sherlock here!" and "Let's solve a mystery... or we can dance... dancing is cool too."

Then, my phone buzzed. I was a bit tipsy but still managed to write out a reply.

 **[Shittykawa:]** Happy Halloween (⁎˃ᆺ˂)

 **[Me:]** Greetings, this is Sherlock Holmes, and I'm also wishing you a spooky night!

 **[Shittykawa:]** Oh Hallows Eve. Wish I could be all dressed up right now. Best holiday ever.

I wondered why he wasn’t. For some reason, I expected Oikawa to be at a big, fancy gala of some sort… or with other Olympic athletes, all of whom are excusing this night as their one opportunity to loosen up and have fun.

 **[Me:]** You don’t have any Halloween plans?

 **[Shittykawa:]** Nah, Ainu’s busy with work, so I’m just chillin’ with Eevee atm.

I bit my lip and looked out at everyone around me. Packs of people, laughing and dancing. Everyone flaunting their characters' quirks and mannerisms. 

Bokuto told me to invite whoever I wanted. So... well...

 **[Me:]** You shouldn't spend Halloween alone! Do you want to come to a Halloween party? I have an open invite for you.

 **[Shittykawa:]** Fuck. Yes.

I texted him the address, and half an hour later, there was a knock on the door. I rushed to open it. Oikawa came dressed as Dr. Watson (Sherlock Holmes' best friend, assistant and, in some of the stories, flatmate)... We both had a pipe in our mouth.

“Sincere apologies. My carriage was late," Oikawa mimicked a Victorian accent. It had begun raining. I pulled him inside.

“Oh, dear! The rain! You are soaking! Thy coat is marvelous, nonetheless.”

“Why, thank you, kind sir. Now, shall we dance or enjoy ourselves with an evening smoke?”

As he hung up his umbrella, the room had stopped to stare at Oikawa. I could tell from their open, star-struck jaws that some instantly recognized him as a famous athlete. Others were just marveled by his beauty. However, we couldn’t care less. After all, we were no longer Iwaizumi and Oikawa. We were Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, ready to explore the mysteries of our night.


	18. alone but not lonely

Drunken fools belted showtunes in Bokuto’s living room, streaming karaoke lyrics straight from the 1980s. It was _that_ point in the night, when people had fully let go of their shy inhibitions. I’d always remembered Oikawa as the type of person to join along, but tonight, I noticed that he hadn’t touched a single drink. As for me, I wandered through the night, taking a beer every now and then. Not much. Sometimes socializing, but mostly, I was just a slightly different version of my quite neutral, average self.

Oikawa and I squeezed onto Bokuto’s tiny balcony—the kind that was big enough for only one person to have a smoke break on. In our British attire, I felt like an old soldier reuniting with his best friend, both of whom were separated from one another during the World Wars. In some ways, Tokyo felt like our battlefield, and being a young person in the city was fighting through your own mission. Like all things in life, the little things are what get us through.

“After a night of profound investigation,” Oikawa mimicked Dr. Watson, “what are the results, Sherlock?”

I smirked. “Results? Well, the journey is not over yet, my dear friend. Tonight, however, I am as confused as ever about life and what it means to be fully, truly human,” I laughed, “but we are here to solve everyday mysteries… not the existential reasoning of our existence.”

Oikawa chuckled, glancing out at the soft city lights. Then, his eyes flicked back to me. “Well, in that case, is it time for us to rejoin the crowd? I might even be down to dance. C’mon, let’s go.”

“I don’t dance, and you know that.”

Regardless, he pulled me up and dragged me into the living room.

Most people were passed out on the plush sofas, slumped and soaked in red wine. Yet, the music continued playing. I didn’t know how people were fast asleep. Kuroo and Kenma slept in their same corner, snoring in each other’s arms. Oikawa flipped through the song list and shook his head. His pout was a telling disapproval of the trashy pop music others had queued on. _Such a pretentious music snob_. He took the phone and changed the song.

“Canopée” by Polo & Pan. They’re an avant-garde French DJ duo, he once murmured to me back in high school. Of course.

The rich, groovy textures of the song swirled around us. I couldn’t help but wave my arms, imitating the flow of the ocean. Oikawa knew which songs would get me dancing, and after gulping down my beer, I too began to slip out of my fears and anxieties.

Oikawa was dancing like an unapologetic lunatic. He hopped over sleeping bodies and twirled around the velvet curtains. He was embracing every note and melody. Together, we were the only ones awake in the room—dancing, swinging, and laughing until the song came to an end.

Then, he added more music to our queue. Portuguese dance music. 90s hip hop. Classic rock ballads.

With every beat, our laughter grew into something… wild.

Wild & free.

When the final song came to an end, I realized that we had danced for an hour, and not once did I think about people watching me. There was only one person there: Oikawa. Everyone else was fast asleep, but even then, it no longer mattered. I wanted Oikawa to see the real me. Did I want him to see the real me, free and alive and dancing to my own desire? I couldn’t tell you, but on this Halloween night, I gave him a glimpse of what I’d been craving—that hunger for life, to be young and reckless again.

“Hey!” he shouted from across the living room while balancing and tip-toeing on the armchair. “There’s a late-night ramen shop down the street. Wanna get something to eat?”

“Sure, let’s check when they close?” I reached for my phone, but people had borrowed it for photos throughout the night, so it was completely out of battery. “Fuck, phone’s dead. Can I use yours?”

“Yep, to your left.”

I opened the internet. Then, I pretended that I hadn’t seen it. I knew he wouldn’t have wanted me to see it. It was quite small, something we’ve all searched before, but I knew it was something Oikawa never wanted the world to know.

_Why do I feel lonely?_

A forum with other people on the internet, asking the same question.

Everyone, wanting answers to their shared dilemma… as if the world had forced all these different people into the same virtual rabbit-hole.

It was simply a google search he had left, not knowing it would be reopened by anyone else besides him. I immediately closed the tab and opened a new one. Typed in: “Ramen Near Me”.

It closed at 4:00 AM, so we had plenty of time.

“Good news,” I shot him a smile, pushing away what I had just seen, “Let’s get some ramen.”

~

We took our food for to-go, and Oikawa found a bench that stood beside a chaotic intersection where cars were almost crossing into each other’s lanes. We slurped our noodles, and the warm, comforting broth warmed up our bodies. In October’s changing temperatures, it was exactly what we needed.

“How’d you like the party?” I asked.

“Your friends are…” he leaned closer to me. “Well, you’re really lucky to be surrounded by such amazing guys, I’ll tell you that. Bokuto. Such a champ. His energy was somethin’ else. Akaashi and Tsukishima were… quiet at first… but so nice once I got to know them. Kuroo even gave me some life advice, and Kenma… at one point in the night, that guy kept me company when he found me standing alone. He even paused his video game. How did you find these people? They’re quite amazing people you’ve gathered in this hell of a city.”

Memories rushed back. I’d met all of them through Kuroo after that boring science fair. It was after Oikawa and I stopped being friends, when I was drifting in my own loneliness, anxiety throwing me out of the isolating spheres of Aoba Johsai. I didn’t expect them to be my lifelong friends, and yet, here we are. It made me happy to see everyone come back together just in time for Bokuto’s Halloween night. No matter where we were, we always found each other again. Now, I suppose the same statement could be applied to Oikawa.

“A science fair.” I smiled, keeping the rest of the truth to myself.

“Ah, fucking nerds.”

“Okay, look at you talk, Mr. Math Club.”

“Ah, valid. Anyway, how was adjusting back to your city life? Found yourself missing Miyagi?” He asked the question as if he’d already had my answers in mind.

“What were we even doing back home? Wasn’t it all a fever dream?” I poked fun at his question.

“Hm?”

“Oh, you know… being stupid teenagers again.”

“Ah,” he rolled his eyes, “I see what you mean. We were just being us. Maybe, it’s just the best parts of reality… so it feels like a dream.”

I stared at the lightstream of car headlights, speeding by past us. “How do _you_ feel, adjusting back to your life after our Miyagi homecoming.”

He leaned forward. “I miss it.” He said it, blunt and simple, as if there was nothing to hide.

“What about it do you miss?” I took another bite of the noodles.

“I don’t know.” He let out a deep sigh. “Rewinding time. Feeling like we were back in the past. What about you? What are you thinking about?”

“I guess, hm, I don’t know.” I paused, once again. “I guess… I guess I’ve been happier lately… yet, I’ve been feeling _more_ than I usually do. All of the good and bad have been colliding in my life, and it’s more painful than before, but for the first time in such a long time, I’m actually feeling _something_ … and that’s so much better than nothing at all.”

He looked at me, brushing the hair from his eyes. “Me too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I don’t have a clear reason why, but it might be the same reason as yours. I resonate with the way you feel this emotion. There’s this sharp sadness brewing within me… something I haven’t felt in a long time. I guess you don’t have to be alone to be lonely. It just takes a small push to make you realize that there’s more out there in this life.”

“What do you mean?”

“Hm, I don’t know.” He smiled. “Forget about it.”

“Why? You keep bringing this up. Is there something you’ve been thinking about?”

“I don’t know how to say it, Iwaizumi, but for the first time in a while, I feel a little less alone when I’m with you. That’s all.”

~

We took the train back to our stop. I walked Oikawa back home. Ainu was working in her office, and when Oikawa entered the living room, they ran toward each other, giving the other person a soft peck. Ainu offered for me to stay and crash in their guest room. I thanked her but refused. After all, I was just across the street. She understood.

“Thanks for keeping Oikawa company tonight, Iwaizumi,” she said, sincerely and sweetly.

She really is a perfect person.

“Nothing to worry about. The host wanted me to invite my friends, so Oikawa being there just made things more fun.”

Then, I walked home.

_Am I lonely too?_

I curled into my bed.

_Maybe. Yeah. Sometimes, I am lonely, but tonight, I was not._

_Right now, I am alone... but I am not too lonely._

Not yet, at least. The memories of the night were still with me.

_Hm, maybe I should get a cat or something._


	19. the right side of my neck still smells like you

“Hey, Iwaizumi! I gotta head out early today. Don’t forget to lock up, alright?” My boss shouted as the remaining guests left the bar, “I trust you with this place, but you know that already!”

I nodded my head and continued mopping up the floors. I scrubbed the toilets and reorganized the shelves of snacks and sparkling sodas. The TV was still on, playing a fuzzy static of midnight news reports. It served as excellent white noise as I wiped down the grease-stained tables.

Every now and then, the news would switch back to a segment on Oikawa and his “iconic legacy”; or at least, that was how the man on the TV described his career. When I looked up, Oikawa would flash on the screen, grinning right at me. With that polished, airbrushed face, he looked like an entirely different person. After spending so much time with him back in our hometown, I’d forgotten that there was _this_ Oikawa: the one adored by all of Japan, glowing on the billboards of every city intersection.

 _My_ Oikawa had sleepy eyes and a smile you had to fight for, and I liked him better.

“Hey, what are you watching? That guy looks familiar.” I rolled my eyes upon hearing the jingle of the little bell on our door. _Couldn’t they see that we were closed!? These fucking customers._

“Excuse me, but unfortunately—” Oh. Of course. That smug smile. “Oikawa? What are you doing here?”

“I saw you through the window. You’ve never told me when your work hours are exactly, but I see you’re around on Friday nights. Checked and noted.”

“Nope, this is cursed knowledge. I can’t have you bothering me at work.” (This was a lie). I would actually love for Oikawa to be around during my shifts. He would charm the jaded businessmen and divorced forty-year-olds; that’s for sure. It would take the work off of me.

“Well, I won’t bother you then.” He took a rag and began wiping down the round tables. “I’m just here to help.”

“Take a bottle of surface cleaner, at least.” I smirked. “Stupidkawa.”

He came back with an apron, plastic gloves, and a giant bottle of blue liquid. Ridiculous. As he scrubbed, Oikawa watched his own interview playing and streaming on the TV. On the screen, he wore an expensive suit, and he talked to the professional reporters and talk show hosts with this peculiar, rehearsed grace. It was seeing two versions of him collide in one room.

_Oh, of course. Volleyball will always have a special place in my heart. This is not the end. I have many things planned for the future with my lovely girlfriend, Ainu. We can’t wait for all of Japan to hear about this new journey ahead. Lots of exciting, beautiful things will happen, so although one chapter of my life has ended, I’m excited for the world to see what we’ll bring to the table next. Keep your hopes up, Japan! I know I will too!_

Oikawa furrowed his brows as he watched himself talk. It looked like he was questioning this alter-ego of himself. I wondered what “things” he had planned with Ainu. He’d never mentioned these “things” to me before. I grew curious.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked, almost instantly. The question no longer felt awkward or tense between us. It was almost as if checking in on each other was just a normal part of our friendship again.

“That. Me. On the screen. I hate it.” He took the remote and switched the TV off. “I’m so good at lying. It almost scares me at times. I have no idea what I’m doing, Iwa-chan. Why do I even agree to these interviews?”

“Cause’ you’re getting paid.”

“Fine, I guess, but I’m just waiting for them to replace me with a new face. I could see it happening. This is what happens. People get bored. They move on. I become nothing.”

 _At least you’re not a faceless bartender like me_ , I thought to myself. Yet, the fear and anxiety in Oikawa’s words were not too dissimilar from my own loathing thoughts.

“Let me make you a drink. Only if you want,” I offered, knowing that he hadn’t been drinking like he did in the past.

He smiled. “Just one. I’ve been cutting back.”

I poured two gin and tonics for us, a favorite amongst the classy executives who come by for happy hours. Oikawa took a seat at the bar, and I pulled a chair into my usual spot. It was what I was paid to do: chat with my regulars and listen to people let out their worries. I turned the TV back on and changed the channel to one that only showed music videos. For what I know, Oikawa had never been featured in a music video, so this channel felt safe.

It was a music video called “SSWB” by an indie-electronic band called D.A.N. The tempo put me in a vibrant yet contemplative mood. We drank while gently humming along to the song.

I took out my wallet to put in some cash for our drinks, and right away, Oikawa leaned over the counter and grabbed it out of my hands.

“Hey, give that back!”

“You’re not paying. I was the one who showed up unannounced.” He then touched the photo I’d been keeping in there. It was the one that my mom sent with her letter and monthly box of vegetables. The polaroid of the two of us as kids. _No, I didn’t want him to see that. Fuck._ “Wait, what’s this? You’ve never shown this photo to me before.”

“My mom sent it in a letter. It was a few weeks ago. I’ve just been keeping it in my wallet. It fits in there, so why not, you know?” I tried playing it cool. It sort of worked?

He stuffed a wad of cash into my wallet and gave it back to me. “I didn’t know you were the type of person to carry around memories like that. Quite sentimental. I’m always discovering new things about you. Anyway, here you go. Don’t argue with me, and just take the money, Iwa-chan. These late-night shifts are hard, and I know those depressed boomers don’t ever tip well.”

I took my wallet and glanced at the photo of us. I then looked back at Oikawa. We looked so different, and yet, it felt as if nothing had changed at all. “Look at your buck-tooth smile. Thank god you got braces in middle school. You were such a little beaver. It was golden.”

“Ha, wish I still had those teeth,” Oikawa joked. “Also, I have a little game in mind.”

“Hm? Right now? It’s past midnight.” I poured myself a glass of wine. Whatever Oikawa had planned, I needed some booze.

“It’s nothing too crazy. How about this: let’s pretend that we’re just meeting for the first time, and we’re introducing ourselves to each other. You know, like we’re discovering each other from the beginning.”

I smirked. “Interesting.”

“And only half-truths are allowed! We’re playing a different version of ourselves.”

“Oh, lord… so we’re fucking cosplaying as ourselves?” I laughed. “Okay, I’m intrigued, and I can’t say no, so go for it.”

He exited the bar. Then, he marched right back as a man pretending to be lost and confused.

“I’m looking for someone,” he asked in an innocent voice, “I’m searching for… a friend.”

I snorted at how ridiculous he was. “Oh god. Hello, I am Iwaizumi. I can be your friend.”

“Finally,” he ran over and pretended to faint on the countertop, “I’m Oikawa Toru. I’ve been searching for a friend for sixty-eight years.”

“Why so long?”

“The fire of my heart and soul was killed when I became a professional athlete. For years and years, I never found true friends in the superficial world of fame. Everyone was out to use me, but there was one boy from my childhood. I’ll never forget him.”

I bit my lip to keep myself from laughing. “Is that so? What was he like?”

“Well, now that you mentioned it, he looked a bit like you. He was more attractive though. We went on many adventures together. With him, every day was a new beginning. We climbed many trees, and he showed me what being alive should feel like.”

“What is being alive?” I leaned into the bar, with a melodramatic smirk.

“It’s this amazing sensation. It’s being unafraid to take on your craziest dreams… to be your fullest, wildest self. I would be completely lost if those memories were stripped from me, but I never allowed myself to forget about this boy.”

“Well? What happened afterwards? Do you know where he is?”

“My sad soul couldn’t take a life of fame and fortune anymore. I moved out to a seaside town, where I lived alone for the rest of my life. Yet, I couldn’t erase his face from my mind. There was something special about him, and I devoted the rest of my life to finding my first friend. I will always wonder where he is.”

“Well, I am just a simple bartender, so I can’t help you very much, but I do have a similar friend. Just like yours… also from my childhood.”

“Yes?”

“Oh, he was a wild card. Always dragging me out of my house. We did things that should’ve gotten us in trouble, but he had a way with words. He charmed everyone he met. We soon lost touch. After growing up, I decided to move out to Nara, where I built myself a boat and spent a life as a fisherman before opening up this dusty ol’ bar. Till’ this day, I do not know where the boy went.”

“You remind me of the boy in my memories.” Oikawa smiled.

“Well, I was about to say the same thing. _You_ remind me of the boy in _my_ memories.”

“I think the boy in my memories would want us to go dancing tonight.”

“Really? From my telepathic powers, he really doesn’t seem like someone who enjoys the club scene.” I felt silly doing this, but it was fun. Now, the game was coming to an end, and we were transitioning back to our normal selves. “Okay, I’m gonna need another shot if we’re going out.”

“Okay, wasn’t that fun, Iwa-chan? Isn’t it nice to play different versions of yourself?”

“Yeah, but wow, what a sad conversation.”

“Didn’t it make you glad that it was only a faux-conversation of half-truths?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” I took a shot of vodka. “Ready?”

“Ah, yes.” His smile revealed an immense excitement.

I locked the doors of the bar, and right away, we sprinted down the city streets.

~

Oikawa led us down into a boiler room club. It was his new favorite spot, a place he hadn’t stopped telling me about for quite some time now. In the heart of Shibuya, crowds flocked for the music and stream of neon lights. Bodies moved and swayed to the beat of house, techno, and new-wave punk. It was electric. It was like nothing else you could ever find on this planet. I wiped the sweat off my forehead, and Oikawa grabbed my hand, carving a pathway through groups of people. We wandered until we found our own little pocket of space. Everyone around us looked like otherworldly creatures, flowing and floating beneath the ghostly scatter of light and soft smoke.

As we blended into the crowds, Oikawa and I danced like madmen. We were swinging our arms and swaying our bodies until the music wrapped us in a trance. I could see why Oikawa loved this space. People were dancing in their own world. No one cared about how others were moving or how they appeared. No one was perceiving each other. We were all simply being completely, utterly _alive_.

Unapologetically human, you could even say.

No one recognized Oikawa, and even if they did, they were all too busy dancing.

“Thoughts!?” Oikawa leaned into my ear and yelled through the music.

I put my hand around his neck and yelled back into the side of his face. “I love it!”

Shades of blue light casted shadows on Oikawa’s face. Baby blues on his forehead. Darker, indigo hues against his cheekbones. He looked like a storybook character. At some point, I drank another shot. The lights changed into shades of reds and oranges. I took another shot—again. And again. Maybe, once more...

Oikawa offered me his hand as the world blurred around me. We danced and danced until my legs turned completely numb. With all the beautiful bodies around me, it was a bit terrifying. Yet, it was also electrifying. The world was a wave of magnetic energy. I felt it all, rushing against our skin and muscle.

“Iwa-chan, you good? How many drinks did you have?” Oikawa placed a hand on my forehead. He pushed my hair back and touched my cheek.

“Yeah, yeah. I'm A-Okay, alrighty...” I continued dancing to the reverberating drums of the house music. “Let’s dance, Discokawa! Dance! Dance!”

“Ahh, I think it may be time for us to get you tucked in bed. You're trippin' all over the place.”

I pouted my lips and held on to his shoulders. “Nooo…”

“Yes…”

Oikawa called a taxi. Next thing you know, I had my arms around his shoulders, and I was on the verge of passing out and suffocating him against the car door. Thankfully, that did not happen.

~

Somehow, I made it back alive. All thanks to Oikawa, of course. I had an arm around his shoulder the whole time: from leaving the club to getting back into my apartment. Once I got out of the club's dark dance floor, illuminated only by pulsing strobe lights, the world became less chaotic. I was able to get a grasp back on reality again. Things were in control again.

By the time we got back to my apartment, I began to sober up.

“Oikawa, are you going back home?” I asked, tilting my head.

“Yeah, I was planning on it. You know that I live down the street, so if you want to hang out tomorrow, we can—”

“I just want to sleep with someone tonight.”

“You’re drunk, Iwa-chan. We’re not doing that.”

“No!” I defended myself. “Not like _that_ . I wasn’t asking to have _sex_ with you.”

“Oh,” he paused for a moment. “I wasn’t… I didn’t think that… hm, what do you want exactly?”

“Just someone to sleep next to. It's been so cold and lonely, Oikawa. Just for one night. As friends.”

“Okay, but we’re just sleeping.”

“Just sleeping.”

“Just sleeping,” he repeated again, drilling it into my mind. I was very drunk, but he made sure that I knew the ground rules. It was what I wanted as well, but even then, my vulnerability made me feel a bit more embarrassed. My drunk self had zero inhibitions. Would I regret this? Hm, not sure.

“Yes, Oikawa. It’s just sleep time. Only sweet dreams.”

“Well, if it makes you fall asleep, I guess I'll stick around… the things I do for you.”

He first got me changed out of my sweaty clothes and into my pajamas. Then, he threw on my torn flannel and old fleece pants on himself. He folded our clothes into a neat pile before getting into bed. In my slanted, twin-sized mattress, we were practically glued to one another.

I couldn’t remember much, but I knew it was tender. & soft. Oikawa nuzzled his face into the side of my neck. He wrapped his arms around my drunk, exhausted body. & he was warm. So warm. Like a protective guardian angel. Bringing so, so much warmth into my cold room. I loved it. I loved it so, so, so much. I didn’t even want to dream because reality was so wonderful.

“You reek of vodka, Iwa-chan.” He softly laughed. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” I muttered before passing the fuck out.

~

I woke up way past noon. _Ugh, groggy._ Shit, my eyes were crusty.

He’d left a text message, telling me that he had an early morning meeting. Nonetheless, Oikawa had left pancakes, fresh berries, and coffee. I touched my blanket and the pillow he slept on.

The right side of my neck still smelled like him, like sandalwood and fresh cedar. It was such a nice scent. I didn’t want it to ever go away.

Then, that realization made my heart beat at the speed of light.

Oh god. Oh god. What the fuck did I do?

Why am I feeling this? Oh fuck.

_____

_**End of Part One** _


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